#another thing i ended up really liking about her despite my general reluctance to like her

[dreampearls]

nahidaposting again

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Until I Found You [1]

Pairing: prince!Yeosang x princess!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 6.8k

Summary: It had been a while since Lady Park's firm rejection, and the fourth prince was beginning to believe he would never get over her. Though the heartbreak had made him more mature, one thing remained unchanged: his stubborn reluctance to marry. Convinced he would never find someone who could understand his pain as deeply as the general's wife, he was unprepared for the surprise life had in store for him—one that came in the form of a foreign princess.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"A peace treaty with Joseon? What do you think Father is going to offer them?" you wondered aloud, staring at your reflection in the ornate gold mirror as your mother gently combed your hair.

She sighed, her face filled with dread. "What else do you think, my dear? Another daughter, obviously. Lord have mercy on whichever poor soul has to be sacrificed."

Your fists clenched involuntarily, clutching the fabric of your robes at the thought. You couldn't imagine the horror: what if it was you? To be torn from your family, everyone you loved, everything you knew, and sent off to a foreign land to marry a complete stranger and live the rest of your life in isolation. "Mother, this is cruelty."

"This is reality, sweetheart."

You winced at her words. She was right, and you hated it. The mere thought of being separated from your mother, Royal Concubine Sarisu of Ruhon, was beyond unbearable. You were all she had, and she was everything to you.

Reaching for her hands, you squeezed them and smiled sadly up at her. Once, she had been the most favoured concubine, steadily climbing the ranks, poised to take the spot beside the then-empty throne. But then the current Her Majesty arrived. With her strong family ties and influential background, she immediately stole away all your mother's chances of ever becoming Queen.

But that wasn't all she stole.

She took everything, including all your father's affections, leaving him with no room for your mother or you. Since then, the two of you had been reduced to mere decorations in the grand palace of Ruhon, often labelled the rejects of His Majesty. You were invisible to him, merely waiting for the end of your days to come.

Neither of you were fools; you knew what people said about you both. But it didn't matter. You were grateful not to be starving on the streets and to still have a roof over your heads, even if it was nowhere near as luxurious as the Queen and her children's chambers. No matter how much favour your mother had lost, at least the King was still kind enough to let you both keep your titles and everything else.

Or was he really?

Perhaps you shouldn't have spoken about it. Now, you had jinxed it. You should have known, should have realised why he had kept you around. You had your own uses and were finally coming in handy now. The realisation struck when a eunuch rushed into your chambers, which was an unusual occurrence, bowing lightly—nothing like the deep bows usually reserved for other royals.

"Princess Sarisu, you have been summoned by His Majesty the King and are expected in the throne room this instant," he announced, gesturing towards the exit. "Please allow me to escort you there."

He let out a small, impatient huff when you remained frozen in your spot, exchanging horrified looks with your mother. "Come now, Your Highness. We mustn't upset His Majesty any further."

She cleared her throat, nodding encouragingly despite her trembling hands. "Go on, my dear. I'm sure it's nothing, hm? Maybe your father simply wishes to catch up." Not wanting her to worry, you forced a smile. "Yes, Mother. You're probably right."

You weren't sure who you were trying to convince with those foolish white lies, but a part of you clung to the hope that was all it was. With that, you followed the eunuch towards the throne room.

The palace corridors seemed colder, the shadows darker, as you walked. Each step echoed ominously, amplifying the anxiety churning in your stomach. You could feel the eyes of courtiers and servants on you, their whispers adding to the tension.

Finally, you reached the grand doors of the throne room. They loomed before you, heavy and imposing. The eunuch pushed them open, revealing the vast chamber within. At the far end, on the elevated throne, sat your father, the King. His expression was stern, his gaze piercing as it settled on you.

"Approach," he commanded, his voice resonating through the hall.

You walked forward, your heart pounding in your chest. As you neared the throne, you dropped to your knees, bowing deeply. "This princess greets Your Majesty," you greeted, your voice trembling despite your efforts to remain composed.

Your father studied you for a moment before speaking, "I hope you have been well, princess. I will not bother beating around the bush; you are at the perfect age for marriage, and it is time you fulfil your duty. The peace treaty with Joseon has been finalised. It has been decided that you are to be sent as part of the agreement. We leave in a week to celebrate your future union with Ninth Prince Yeochan."

The words struck you like a blow. Your worst fears had come true. You were to be sacrificed for the sake of the kingdom, sent away to a foreign land to marry a stranger. Your mind raced, struggling to process the reality of your fate.

Oh god, it's really happening... to me.

"Father, please..." you began, but he raised a hand, silencing you.

"Look at me, princess. This is not a question, it's an order," he commanded, his gaze steely and unyielding despite your tear-filled eyes. You were bewildered; you were merely the daughter of a concubine. It was usually only princesses born from the Queen who had to marry for the nation's sake.

"But Father—" you fell to your knees, prepared to beg for mercy.

He snarled, "No buts! Your sisters are too young for this. Her Majesty and I have deliberated long and hard. You're the only one fit for the task. You'll do well to make your mother proud. I know you're upset about leaving her behind, but you're a princess, and you know what that means. Your sacrifice will save Ruhon…"

Yes, from your reckless decisions.

If only he hadn't rashly launched a sudden attack on Joseon, none of this would have happened. Peace would have prevailed, and you wouldn't have to be offered as a pawn in the war he instigated. You weren't stupid; he was giving you up because this was a deal with the enemy. The Queen's daughters were too precious to be sent away.

"Oh, come now, my daughter. Just be grateful you aren't marrying the dreadful fourth prince of Joseon. I'm sure their ruler still has some conscience. You'll be fine."

Easy for you to say, Father...

One week. That was all the time you were given to come to terms with your fate—to be the chosen pawn sent to Joseon, to spend these final days with your mother before departing forever. Reality wasn't cruel; your father was. You had never harboured such profound hatred for him as you did now. Oh, your poor mother. How would she endure the emptiness of the palace alone? Your heart ached with the mere thought of her grieving in the cold confines of your shared chambers, her life overshadowed by your absence.

Though you faced a grim future, perhaps far worse than hers, all you could think about was the one person who meant everything to you—the one who had brought you into this world, nurtured you, protected you, and showered you with endless love. And now, you were leaving her behind forever.

The days blurred together in a haze of sorrow and apprehension. You clung to your mother, finding solace in shared memories and whispered reassurances. The palace, once your sanctuary, now felt like a gaol, each room a reminder of the departure that loomed ahead.

On the final night, she held you tightly, her voice trembling with unshed tears. "You are strong, my dear. Remember that. No matter what happens, hold on to who you are. Go and make us all proud."

You nodded, tears mingling with hers. "I will, Mother. I promise. Don't worry about me and take good care of yourself."

The next morning arrived far too soon. As you prepared to leave, you took a last, lingering look around your chamber, memorising every detail. Then, with a heavy heart, you followed the royal guard sent to escort you. Walking through the palace corridors for the final time, the weight of your destiny pressed heavily upon you.

At last, you reached the courtyard where the grand carriage awaited. Your father stood beside it, his face a mask of indifference. He offered no words as you approached, only a curt nod. "Come, let us go."

With one final, sorrowful glance at your mother, you climbed into the carriage. As it began to move, you watched her silhouette grow smaller and smaller until she was nothing more than a distant memory.

Thus, you set off towards an uncertain future, your heart heavy with grief and dread, knowing you were leaving behind everything you had ever known and loved.

Goodbye, Ruhon... goodbye, Mother.

"Your Highness, how should we announce you at the banquet?" the King of Joseon asked, smiling warmly down at you.

Your father straightened up proudly beside you, about to answer on your behalf, but you quickly bowed. "Please announce me as Princess Sarisu, Your Majesty, as I have always been known in Ruhon."

The Joseon ruler's eyes widened slightly at the realisation. "Ah, so this is the famous Royal Concubine Sarisu's only daughter. That explains your exceptional beauty. And here, we assumed a princess from Her Majesty of Ruhon would be offered to us." It was a subtle jab at your father, who had thought he could deceive the court by presenting you as a Crown Princess.

Your father's smile was steely, masking the fury that boiled inside him. He trembled with anger at your betrayal—exposing your true identity by using your mother's name, despite his stern reminder that you were to pose as one of the Queen's daughters.

Call it your little revenge if you will.

"No matter, Father. I consider myself fortunate to be matched with such a beauty. After all, I, too, am a son of a concubine. We are quite the match," said Prince Yeochan, your betrothed, as he bowed respectfully to his father and yours. His words might charm most, but you doubted their sincerity. Living in a palace, you had seen your share of false pleasantries and performative kindness.

The King of Joseon nodded approvingly. "As you should be, Ninth Prince. I expect you to treat your future wife well. Now let us adults discuss the wedding plans. You may show your fiancée to her temporary quarters."

"Yes, Father," the young prince responded, then approached you, offering his arm. "Come, my princess."

Despite the grandeur of your reception, it was clear that the welcome was more for show than genuine warmth. This became evident when you arrived at your assigned quarters, a small and secluded part of the palace, far from the bustling main areas where the rest of the royal family and court members congregated.

"Thank you, Your Highness, for showing me here," you said politely.

At that moment, the facade of the dutiful son vanished. Yeochan smirked humourlessly. "Save it. It doesn't matter if you're the daughter of a concubine or the Queen; you're still Ruhon scum to me. Don't think that just because you're here showing me your faux politeness, you can fool me. I don't trust you, princess," he spat.

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. There it was, his true nature revealed. Not that you hadn't anticipated this. Given the history between your nations, it was inevitable. You were the princess from the country that had dared to attack his own, a symbol of betrayal and defeat, delivered to their doorstep after your father's cowardly surrender. You could have argued, defended yourself, but it was clear there was no point. His hatred was deep-rooted and unwavering.

The ninth prince huffed at your silence. "I'll make this clear: you will do well to cooperate and play the perfect couple with me in public. But do not expect anything when we're alone. You are nothing more than a political pawn in this game. Remember that."

You met his gaze, your own eyes steady and resolute. "I understand, Your Highness. I will fulfil my duty as expected."

He sneered, turning on his heel and leaving you alone in your sparse quarters. As the door closed behind him, the reality of your situation settled over you like a heavy shroud. The grandeur of the palace felt hollow, a gilded cage in which you were now imprisoned.

Tears threatened to spill, but you blinked them back, refusing to succumb to despair. You had to be strong, for your mother, for yourself. No matter how cold and unwelcoming this place was, you would endure. You had no other choice.

I'll be fine, Mother... I'll live.

The rest of the day had been spent wandering aimlessly within your quarters. The thought of dining with your father was unbearable; after the stunt you had pulled earlier, you dreaded to think what he might say or do. So, you remained secluded in your room, staring at the miserable meal the palace maids had brought you.

Their reluctance to serve you had been apparent. A few bolder ones had whispered about you not so discreetly, their words cutting through the fragile composure you were trying to maintain. Feeling the tension and disdain in the air, you had dismissed them, preferring solitude over their barely concealed contempt.

Staring at the plain bowl of rice and a few meagre side dishes, your appetite vanished. You knew enough about Joseon to recognise that this meal was far from a luxury. It was a clear message: you were not welcome here, not valued, not respected.

Heaving a deep sigh, you thought of your poor mother. How was she coping with your absence? Was she as lonely and lost as you felt in this foreign place? The ache of missing her was a constant, gnawing pain, a reminder of everything you had been forced to leave behind.

As night fell, the shadows in your room grew longer, mirroring the gloom that settled over your heart. The palace, with all its splendour, felt like a prison. The heavy silence pressed down on you, amplifying the sense of isolation. You were a stranger in an enemy land, alone and uncertain of the future.

But you knew you had to endure.

For your mother, for your people, and most importantly, for yourself. No matter how bleak the present seemed, you clung to a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, in time, you would find a way to navigate this treacherous path and carve out a place for yourself in this unforgiving world. Until then, all you could do was survive, one day at a time.

You had gone to bed with a heavy heart, fully aware that this was now your reality, and nothing could change it. A part of you was determined to make the best of your situation despite the hostility you faced. Perhaps it was the adrenaline and emotional exhaustion from the day that allowed you to fall asleep without much trouble on your first night in this foreign land.

The following morning, you were awakened by the same group of maids assigned to you. They were there to bathe and dress you, and knowing you had no choice but to comply, you obediently allowed them to do as they pleased. You endured every harsh tug and rough handling without a single complaint as they prepared you for the day.

"Thank you, you may go," you said, dismissing the group of maids as soon as they had finished their task. Sitting in front of the mirror, you took in your new appearance. It was a sobering reminder that you were about to be a princess of Joseon. The foreign hanbok and hairdo, though simpler and less dramatic than Ruhon's style, were beautiful in their own right.

You reached a hand behind to stroke the single gold hairpin tucked into the neat low bun on your head, then moved down to touch the smooth lavender fabric now adorning your body. "Hmm, not bad at all," you murmured to yourself.

Despite the simplicity, there was a quiet elegance to the attire. The colours were soft and soothing, a stark contrast to the vibrant and intricate garments you were accustomed to. You could see yourself getting used to these outfits. This was your new reality, and you were determined to find beauty and strength in it, no matter how challenging the circumstances.

With a deep breath, you rose from your seat and steeled yourself for the day ahead. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you resolved to face whatever came your way with grace and resilience. Knowing that no one, especially not your fiancé, would show you around the palace grounds, you resolved to explore the place on your own. With the banquet scheduled for the next night, you had this day to yourself. What better way to spend it than embarking on a little adventure?

Finally free from the pressure and the sensation of walking on eggshells, you wandered the palace grounds with awe. The buildings and their architecture were new and different, capturing your attention at every turn. You nodded politely at any passing palace staff who, despite their reluctance or displeasure, still greeted you with courtesy. Your attire signified your status, and rules were rules; they couldn't possibly ignore you in broad daylight.

Amid your exploration, you stumbled upon what seemed to be a tranquil cherry blossom garden. Though the flowers were not in bloom, you could imagine how breathtaking this place would be in the right season. You made a mental note to return when the cherry blossoms were in full glory.

Deciding to take a walk inside, you were unprepared for the sight that greeted you. In one of the many pavilions, diligently practising calligraphy, was a figure that resembled a celestial being. The scene was almost ethereal: the serene garden, the elegant strokes of the brush, the calm concentration on the person's face.

Could he be a scholar...?

Your breath caught in your throat. The figure was dressed in simple yet refined garments. The rhythmic movements of the brush were mesmerising, each stroke deliberate and graceful. You couldn't help but feel as though you were intruding upon a sacred moment. But you couldn't turn away as you moved closer, recognising the poem being written.

"Is that Hwaseoljedeungnubu by Shin Sukju?" you asked softly.

At your question, the person's head whipped up. It took him a moment to respond, but he did eventually. "Yes, it is."

You nodded in approval, a small smile on your lips, pleased that he had yet to frown or react negatively as most people had so far. "Nice penmanship, by the way."

He cleared his throat, slightly flustered. "Thank you."

To say that Yeosang was surprised would be the understatement of the century. Only the most highly educated individuals could recognise this series of poems exchanged between Joseon officials and Ming Dynasty envoys. He wouldn't have been surprised if even most low-ranking officials were not well-versed in this.

First of all, you were a woman, and most women, despite being educated, did not study these texts. Secondly, you were clearly not local; your accent gave that away. Were you perhaps a visiting guest here for the banquet celebrating the union with Ruhon?

But above all else, did you... not know who he was? Even if you didn't, most people turned away as soon as they spotted the dreadful red mark beside his left eye, which was not hard to miss.

When you bit your lip earnestly and stepped into the pavilion, asking, "Do you mind if I join you?" The fourth prince furrowed his brows and placed down his brush, lifting his head to look at you properly, giving you a clear view of his birthmark.

"Are you certain, my lady? Why would you want to sit with me?"

You blinked, confused by the question. "I-I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't understand—"

He sighed, pointing at the mark on his face. "Do you not see this?"

You nodded slowly, still lost. "Yes, and?"

His brows flew up at your nonchalant response, and he took a deep gulp. "What—are you not disgusted?"

You frowned. "That's a strong word, but... am I supposed to be? By what exactly?"

He finally gave in, taking a moment to process the fact that standing before him was someone who did not see anything wrong with him—the second person to do so after Lady Park. He motioned to the seat opposite him. "Please, have a seat."

You smiled gratefully and settled across from him. He waited for you to be seated before beginning his introduction. "I apologise for my unusual questions. I… I'm Yeosang, the Fourth Prince of Joseon."

He held his breath as your eyes widened in realisation, bracing himself for the rejection he was so accustomed to. But it didn't come. Instead, your lips formed a small pout as you observed him. "So, you're the famous Fourth Prince Yeosang… I don't get it."

He chuckled in bewilderment. "What don't you get, my lady?"

"Why do they call you dreadful? I've only been here for a day and a half, met a handful of people, and you're the first and only one to treat me with equal respect. Besides, you're… very attractive. I don't understand why they'd call you—" Your eyes landed on the birthmark. "Ah, so that's why…"

He nodded solemnly, trying not to show how much it affected him. "Yes, all because of this one stupid mark."

You pursed your lips. "Well, if it's worth anything, I think you're beautiful. People can be cruel for no reason. Trust me, I know."

For the first time in forever, the fourth prince broke into a genuine grin. "Thank you, I… I think you're beautiful too."

You grew shy at that, and wanting to break the ice, Yeosang picked up his brush, handing it to you. "Now, you must tell me how you know about Shin Sukju and his poems. Also, which is your favourite?"

For the remainder of the afternoon, he refrained from asking about your identity, and you were grateful for it. You feared he might distance himself if he learned of your betrothal to his brother, and the thought unsettled you. After all, finding a genuine friend was rare and precious, and you wished to cherish this fleeting moment of sincerity. You knew that by the next day, at the banquet, everyone, including Yeosang, would eventually discover who you truly were.

But you pushed that worry from your mind.

Just for now...

Your time together was cut short when the prince had classes to attend and could no longer stay. As he packed up his things and prepared to leave the pavilion, he turned to you. "Will you be at the banquet tomorrow?"

You swallowed and nodded, offering a small smile. "Yes, I'll be there."

His face lit up with a beaming smile. "Great! I’ll see you there, my lady."

You rose from your seat and bowed. "See you, Your Highness."

Once Yeosang had departed, you sank back into your seat, lost in contemplation. So this was the prince your father had told you you were fortunate not to be wed to? Of course, you knew that if you had been matched with him, he might not have been as courteous as he had been today. Before arriving in Joseon, you had heard nothing but unflattering remarks about him. He was rumoured to be a rebellious brat, the least appealing prince among his brothers.

Yet, meeting him in person, you found the reality strikingly different.

Sure, the rebellious reputation might have some truth, but people can change. As for the claim of his being unappealing, you couldn't fathom how a mere birthmark could diminish his allure. In your eyes, Yeosang was extraordinarily handsome, and the mark only seemed to enhance his unique charm.

Could it be that you were developing a small crush on your soon-to-be brother-in-law? Maybe so, but who could blame you? His kindness, coupled with his striking appearance, made it nearly impossible not to feel some affection. Perhaps it was this harmless little infatuation that provided a semblance of comfort and sanity amidst the turmoil of your new life.

You allowed yourself a small, wistful smile. For now, you would hold on to this tender feeling, as it was one of the few bright spots in the otherwise daunting reality you faced.

Heh, a silly little crush wouldn't hurt.

After the royal tutor had left, the fourth prince found himself alone in the library, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips as he gazed at the parchment before him. Your handwriting, delicate yet confident, adorned the page. He was thoroughly impressed by your breadth of knowledge, especially given that you were a foreigner. You had shared with him your passion for the liberal arts and how you had delved into them in your home library. It was refreshing to meet someone so genuinely curious and non-judgmental. You were a rare find in a world often quick to judge and dismiss.

His anticipation for the banquet grew, eager to continue your intellectual exchange and perhaps learn even more from you. This fleeting joy, however, was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"You seem to be in high spirits, my prince. Could it be because of the banquet? You've heard the news, haven't you?" Royal Secretary Choi's voice interrupted his thoughts. As he looked up, his smile faltered slightly upon meeting the secretary's inquisitive gaze.

"Heard? About what?" Yeosang inquired, his brows knitting together.

"Wait… you haven't? General and Lady Park will be attending. Last time we spoke, you mentioned wanting to see her, didn't you?" San replied, his tone laced with curiosity.

The mention of Lady Park swiftly altered his mood. Thoughts of your newfound friendship evaporated, overshadowed by the grim realisation. Although he had reconciled with the fact that she would never be his, the prospect of seeing her again—now pregnant and with her husband—was a painful reminder of his loss. The thought of facing them, of witnessing their happiness, stirred a deep unease within him. Was he truly prepared for this?

"I see. Thank you for the information, Secretary Choi. I'll see you at the banquet tomorrow," Yeosang said, gathering his belongings and leaving for his chambers. He needed solitude to grapple with the revelation and to ready himself for the emotional challenge ahead.

"We'd like to extend our gratitude to all distinguished guests here today to celebrate the union between Joseon and Ruhon. May I present to you the match that will make all of this possible: our very own Ninth Prince Yeochan and the beautiful Princess Sarisu of Ruhon. Their Highnesses will be officially wed in a month. Now, let us all use this opportunity to congratulate the new couple on their impending marriage and wish them an eternity of happiness," the King of Joseon announced.

Oh. There she is.

Yeosang blinked. There you were, standing before the assembled guests. Indeed, you were present. And, of course, you were the Ruhon princess sacrificed for the peace treaty. The puzzle pieces began to fit together. That explained your knowledge and undeniable class—qualities far beyond those of any mere noblewoman. He supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised.

As if on cue, you turned and met his gaze. Your eyes widened slightly upon seeing him, your expression turning guilty. You opened your mouth, ready to mouth an apology, but before you had the chance, a tap on his shoulder quickly shifted his attention.

Likewise, your fiancé cleared his throat, sensing your distraction. He murmured in your ear, "Focus, princess. Don't you dare embarrass me." You blinked and nodded. While people on the outside might coo and assume the Ninth Prince was a loving fiancé, only you know the reality behind his facade.

"There you are, my prince!" the royal secretary called out. "The general and his wife are just over there," he informed, nodding toward the area where the couple could be seen. Seonghwa was deep in conversation with his handpicked military strategist, General Officer Song, while his wife was engaged in a chat with one of the royal physicians nearby.

Yeosang's breath hitched as soon as his eyes landed on the pregnant woman. In an instant, all thoughts of you and the revelation of your identity as the foreign princess meant to marry his brother vanished. All he could see and think about was the general's wife. It was the first time he had seen her since her wedding with General Park, and she looked… beautiful, as always. In fact, she seemed even more beautiful now, glowing with the radiance of motherhood.

Oh god, he realised he was still far from getting over her. Would he ever get over her? He didn't know, but for now, just for now, he needed to talk to her.

Taking a deep breath, he started toward her, his heart pounding with every step. As he approached, her laughter reached his ears, a sound that once brought him immense joy and now brought a bittersweet ache. It took her a moment to notice him, needing the royal physician she was speaking with to signal his presence. Her eyes widened in surprise when she turned to see him, starting to bow, but he stopped her before she could do so.

"It's been a while, my lady. Would you... care to catch up?" he asked.

She bit her lip, turning to meet her husband's warm gaze. The general nodded, indicating the decision was hers. Turning back to face the prince, she beamed. "Of course, Your Highness. Shall we talk over some snacks? Pregnancy cravings, you know," she joked, and he agreed, guiding her to the refreshments table.

"So, how have you been?" Yeosang asked, his voice laced with a mix of hope and sorrow.

"I've been well, thank you," she responded, her hand instinctively moving to rest on her belly. "And you? How have you been?"

He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I've been… managing. It's good to see you looking so well."

She smiled again, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "It's good to see you too, Your Highness. I heard you've been doing well with your studies and your duties."

The fourth prince nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from her. "Yes, I've been keeping busy." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I just wanted to say… congratulations. You look radiant."

"Thank you," she said softly, her smile genuine. "It means a lot coming from you."

He gulped, pausing briefly before meeting her eyes. "You are happy, aren't you? The general... he's treating you well, yes?" He knew that San had already assured him of this once, but he needed to hear it from her to be fully convinced, to properly let go.

The lady softened and nodded. "I am, my friend. I feel like the happiest woman on earth. I assure you, you don't have to worry about me. And yes, my husband is very good to me. I promise you, I'm telling the truth," she added with a hint of jest.

"That's good. That's all that matters to me, my lady. Promise me you'll invite me over once the baby's born," the fourth prince said, despite the light ache in his chest.

"Of course, Your Highness! You'll be the first I'll invite!" she replied, laughing warmly.

The two exchanged a few more words, their conversation unknowingly catching most people's eyes in the hall, given their well-known history. For those craving drama, it was slightly anticlimactic to see the two get along so well. While the King and Queen exchanged proud smiles, the ninth prince was less than pleased, again overshadowed by his elder brother. Even on his special day, Yeosang managed to steal the spotlight.

The fourth prince sensed all eyes on him, growing slightly self-conscious. He wasn't clueless; he hadn't been naive enough to ignore that his failed attempt to win General Park's wife had been the talk of the palace. People weren't scrutinising him merely for his birthmark and rebellious tendencies anymore, but also for his brave yet foolish pursuit of a taken woman—one who belonged to one of the most intimidating and feared individuals in all of Joseon.

Knowing it was time to make himself scarce, he took one last, long look at the lady he still held feelings for, reminding himself it was time to truly let go. She was happy, with child, about to build a family with her husband. It was wrong for him to still feel this way.

"I wish you happiness, my lady. May you have a safe delivery, and I look forward to meeting your mini you," he said, his voice tinged with genuine warmth and a lingering sorrow.

She giggled softly, nodding. "Thank you, my prince. I wish you all the happiness in the world as well."

With that, Yeosang finally bid the lady goodbye, not forgetting to shoot the general a grateful nod before making his way out of the hall. He needed somewhere quiet to organise his thoughts and emotions. As he walked away, the murmurs and whispers of the court followed him, a stark reminder of the weight of his actions and the expectations placed upon him.

Reaching a secluded garden within the palace grounds, now adorned with lanterns hanging from the trees as part of the celebration, he allowed himself to breathe deeply, the cool night air filling his lungs. The moonlight cast gentle shadows, and the lanterns emitted a soft glow, while the distant sounds of the banquet faded into the background. Alone with his thoughts, he closed his eyes, letting the reality of the situation wash over him.

He had seen her happiness, her radiant glow as an expectant mother, and it brought him a strange sense of peace. It was time to move forward, to let go of the past, and to find his own path to happiness.

Taking one last deep breath, he straightened up, a newfound resolve settling within him. It was time to face the future, whatever it might hold, with a heart unburdened by past regrets.

Time to move on, Kang Yeosang...

The night had never felt longer than it did now as you sat wearily beside your fiancé. You observed with curiosity as Prince Yeosang conversed with the beautiful Lady Park, catching the gossip from two palace maids nearby. So this was the woman who held the fourth prince's heart and was the reason for his significant change.

Love, indeed, was a strange force, altering people as soon as they were struck by its powerful emotions. You wondered if you would ever experience such feelings. But glancing to your left at your soon-to-be husband, you doubted it would ever happen. From here on, everything was merely a duty—this marriage, this commitment.

At some point, you noticed that Yeosang was no longer in sight. Ah, to leave as you please must be a luxury. Like him, you, too, would rather be anywhere but here. But with no choice, you remained seated, playing the role of the perfect fiancée to the ninth prince.

Nearing the end of the banquet, the overwhelming presence of false kindness around you became unbearable. Turning to Prince Yeochan, you forced a smile. "Your Highness, it seems the event is drawing to an end. I am feeling rather fatigued. May I please excuse myself?"

He turned to you, and you could see the effort it took for him not to roll his eyes as he too forced a grin. "Of course, love. Anything for my princess," he said, loud enough for his father to hear.

The King of Joseon nodded approvingly. "Go, my dear. The ninth prince shall attend to the remaining guests."

With a grateful bow, you departed, ignoring the searing gaze of your father on your back. You had avoided interacting with him all night; his presence made you sick to the core. If having a father meant having one like him, you would rather have none at all. You couldn't wait for him to leave, not wanting to see him any longer.

As soon as you were out of the hall, you dismissed the maids escorting you, preferring to be alone and sparing them the burden of accompanying the hated Ruhon princess. With a sigh of relief, your shoulders slumped, finally feeling a sense of freedom. You began walking aimlessly, letting your feet guide you wherever they pleased. Though you knew your way back to your quarters, you had no desire to return to that cage just yet. You needed fresh air, a moment of peace.

Your eyes sparkled in wonder when you stumbled upon a beautiful garden area illuminated by lanterns. The soft glow of the lanterns cast gentle shadows, creating a magical atmosphere. You paused, taking in the sight, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. The night air was cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the banquet hall.

Wandering deeper into the garden, you savoured the solitude. The sounds of the banquet faded into the distance, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the soft chirping of crickets. The garden felt like a sanctuary, a place where you could temporarily escape the expectations placed upon you.

Your breath hitched when you finally spotted a familiar figure sitting by the cobblestone ledge, facing a small pond. Carefully, you stepped towards him, unsure. Hearing your footsteps, he turned, causing you to freeze. With a small chuckle, he gestured to the spot beside him.

"Oh, hey there. Take a seat, princess." Your heart skipped a beat at the way he addressed you, genuine and without sarcasm, unlike your fiancé. And so you did, settling down beside him cautiously.

You swallowed nervously, avoiding his gaze, and asked in a whisper, "Aren't you angry with me, Your Highness? For deceiving you?"

He raised a brow in surprise and replied, "Why would I be, princess? Technically, I never inquired about your identity, and you haven't told me any lies. There is nothing for you to feel bad over, and absolutely no reason for me to be displeased. If anything, I'm quite happy to learn that you'll be staying here. You know, it's not often I encounter someone with a mind as exceptional as mine," he added with a teasing smile, giving you a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

A laugh escaped you, and you turned to face him, your heart fluttering at the sight of his warm and pretty smile. He extended his hand towards you. "Friends?"

You hesitated only for a moment before placing your hand in his. "Friends."

As you sat side by side, a tranquil silence enveloped you both. The gentle glow of lanterns bathed the garden in a soft, ethereal light, while the quiet murmurs of the pond added a serene backdrop to the moment. The moonlight shimmered on the water, creating a magical and soothing atmosphere.

You stole a glance at him, a genuine smile gracing your lips. For the first time since your arrival, the oppressive weight of loneliness seemed to lift. His presence beside you brought a sense of calm and companionship that had been sorely missing.

Perhaps, after all, being here wasn't so bleak. The evening's initial discomfort had given way to a blossoming connection. As you shared this peaceful moment, you couldn't help but think that this might be the start of something truly significant—a genuine friendship. The idea of finding someone who truly understood and accepted you kindled a warm hope in your heart.

I think I'll be just fine here, Mother.

« Preview of Part 2 »

"Thank you, my King," the mother of the nation murmured softly, holding her husband's hand as they settled into bed.

His Majesty raised an eyebrow, glancing at her with curiosity. "For what, my wife?"

The Queen sighed, her gaze distant. "For not forcing the fourth prince into this arranged marriage. I was afraid you might do so as part of his punishment, to settle him down once and for all."

The ruler of Joseon exhaled deeply. "I won't deny it, my Queen. I did consider it. But then I remembered Lady Park's words—he has endured enough already. It's my fault he became the man he is. I have not been the father he needed, and the least I can do now is honour his wishes, even if it means he chooses not to marry."

Her Majesty nodded, her voice gentle. "I have not been the best mother either. But perhaps it is time we make amends. This decision is for the best."

"It is," the King agreed, his tone resolute.

Surprise!! Didn't think I'd update on a Wednesday but long story short, I got injured and am on medical leave today. So, I figured, why not use this time to write? HAHA

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[illubean]

UndergroundFighter!Geto

wrote this late at night and on my phone so excuse any mistakes or weird formatting... i dont think this necessarily needs a pt 2 but if u guys want one lmk ^^

This place really wasn't your scene.

Seriously, even you yourself didn't know how you ended up here. You were a college student with fairly good grades that was generally a law abiding citizen, so how the hell did you end up in an illegal underground fighting ring.

Despite not knowing how you ended up here in the first place, for the past few weeks you continued to show up every weekend in the late hours of the night to watch. And the one thing that kept you coming back every time was the undefeated champion, Suguru Geto.

Maybe you'd developed a teeny tiny crush on the fighter, which was what kept you coming back to watch him. There was no doubt the guy was attractive, but maybe dating a guy who illegally brawls other guys in an abandoned warehouse wasn't the best idea.

One night, your roommate (and friend) insisted that you show her wherever it is you run off to every saturday. You were reluctant to bring her, not wanting to get her into any trouble but she wouldn't take no for an answer.

So now, you were pushing your way to the front of the barrier on the second floor overlooking the fighting grounds with Shoko Ieiri in tow.

"So this is where you sneak off to when you don't have class? I never took you as the type," Shoko says lazily, a cigarette hanging from her lips as she leans against the railing, looking down towards the empty first floor of the building.

Before you could respond, the booming voice of an announcer sounded and echoed through the warehouse. You didn't care enough to actually pay attention to what he was saying, all you could do was stare longingly as the inky haired man who caught your attention enters the ring.

Shoko's eyes widen at the sight of him, doing a double take to make sure she was seeing this right.

"He's the guy you insist on watching?"

You lean against the railing next to your companion, resting your head on your hands with a dreamy sigh.

"Yeah...isn't he cute?"

"I went to high school with the guy."

You perked up at this and shifted your attention to the brunette. Her initial surprise at seeing the man had dissipated as she was now taking a lazy drag of her cigarette.

"No way- you know him!?"

"Used to be close friends. Then there was a falling out in the group and we went our separate ways. I had no clue this was what he was doing now-a-days."

The both of you guys turned your attention back towards the fight going on below you. Geto was fighting a man about twice his size; realistically he should probably be losing but he took the guy down so effortlessly.

Another flawless win for Suguru Geto.

You never really payed much attention to the details of the fight. Instead, you focused on the man himself. He tended to fight in a tight black shirt that left little to the imagination paired with a pair of baggy sweats, but some days (like today) he would ditch the shirt.

And oh, what a sight he was.

You took in every detail of his sculpted abs, wondering what it would be like to rest your hands on his pecs. Deciding it was too early in the night to be thinking about that, you tear your eyes away from his muscles and opt to scan his face as you've done time and time before.

Your eyes trailed from the loose strands of hair that framed his face down to his sharp jaw. Your shameless gaze moved towards his lips that looked oh so kissable, to his perfect nose and to his eyes-Oh.

His dark eyes that where already staring back at you.

This wasn't the first time Geto had noticed you. He's seen you a couple times, but he'd never really gotten a good look until today. At first, he was looking at Shoko, surprised to see her with a raised brow. But then his gaze shifted to you and he realized you must've been the one to bring her. What a small world, huh?

The man chuckled silently at the way you seemed to get embarrassed by getting caught gawking at him so openly. Hurriedly, you turned away and grabbed Shoko by the arm, rushing her out of the building.

For the next week, Geto couldn't help but think about you. He longed on the couch in his small apartment, recalling all of the times he had spotted you before.

The first time you had showed up was about a month ago, and without fail you would continue to come back and stand in the same spot, watching him. You always had the same spacey look on your face, it was no secret you'd taken a liking to him. How cute.

Eventually, the next fight rolled around and there you were in your usual spot, once again alone as Shoko decided to stay in for the night. Though his opponent wasn't much of a threat, he fought especially hard, showing off for you just a little.

The match ended fairly quickly. Geto couldn't care less about the roaring cheers of spectators at the moment, opting to focus solely on your reactions. Your smile was beaming as always, but you seemed to shrink away shyly when you noticed him looking back at you again. This time, you offered him a sheepish wave instead of immediately turning to run.

A smirk made it's way across the ravenette's features as he nodded towards the exit of the building before turning to walk away. Your brain short circuited as you tried to comprehend what just happened.

Is he asking you to meet him outside?

After standing there stunned for a moment, you pushed your way past the crowd and down the stairs through one of the doors. You looked around a couple times, walking around to the other side of the abandoned warehouse and spotted him leaning against the wall.

Meeting a random man behind an abandoned building after he just beat someone up in the middle of the night probably wasn't the smartest idea on your end, but you just couldn't help yourself. You nervously made your way a little closer, settling to lean against the wall about a foot or two from him.

"Hey.."

"Hey. What's a pretty thing like you doing at fights like these?"

Geto turned his head to look at you, awaiting your answer.

"I don't know the answer to that myself."

He still wore his attire from his match, which in this case, was just shoes and a pair of black sweatpants. The flickering yellow light overhead emphasized the contours of his face and muscles. The cool night air nipped at your guys' skin, working to cool Geto off as sweat from his previous fight rolled down his chest and disappeared into the waistband of his sweats.

You flicked your eyes away from him, deciding that looking forward while speaking to him would be the best option to not make an utter fool out of yourself.

He was so attractive it made you nervous.

"Don't get shy on me now, angel. I've seen how you look at me."

He leaned closer to you, his long black locks that were once tied up now draped over his shoulder loosely, creating a curtain around the both of you. He was so close you could feel his breath fan against your face. You gulped nervously as his piercing eyes were locked onto yours.

He chuckled lightly before pulling away and you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"You're so easy to fluster, it's cute. Give me a call some time, yeah?"

He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and placed it in your hand before turning and making his way back inside the building. You unfolded it to reveal ten neatly written digits. His phone number.

Wait a minute.

Does this guy just carry his own number around?

[mcgrillzdumpinc]

I'll likely make a more in depth post once I've read through all the translated light novels but

Hello Apothecary Diaries fans I am in volume 8 and would like to reassure you about the choking scene from volume 5

Spoilers under the cut!

Okay so there's a scene at the end of volume 5 (the manga is not there yet) that many have interpreted as sexual assault. For the sake of those sensitive to such topics, I'm going to give a light on spoilers version of the scene and then an in depth analysis. Personally, I do not view the scene as sexual assault, but it is very forceful and carries A LOT of very sad subtext. You'll understand what I'm getting at in the more depth part.

So, the general gist of the choking scene.

MaoMao and Jinshi are in the garden to escape a banquet. They talk for a bit about a very scary incident that occurred that day (thankfully nobody was killed) and share casual conversation. Then Jinshi brings up that they're at this banquet to find him a wife. I won't spoil the specifics, but fyi MaoMao has been wearing an accessory this whole time that loudly announces (to everyone except herself, of course) that She's The Favorite™. Despite how obvious Jinshi has been with his intentions, including holding her hand and combing his other fingers through her hair while mentioning the whole wife thing, MaoMao evades him while thinking "I'm not capable of love". So, she tries to dodge him by offering up another woman. This is what causes Jinshi to snap and choke her, as well as hold one of her arms behind her back to stop her from fighting back.

He doesn't kill her. As far as damage to her throat, the text doesn't indicate any. He then leans his weight on her. MaoMao then remembers how she was taught sex techniques against her will be the Verdigris House women & decides to use those techniques against Jinshi. She then promptly leaves and Jinshi feels like the most pathetic man in world.

The two don't interact beyond official matters until towards the end of volume 6. Jinshi brings more rare medicine in lieu of an apology. The two talk around the wife situation again and MaoMao gets tickled. It isn't until volume 7 that they have an actual conversation breakthrough.

That's my light on spoilers version of the events. Now I'll give a more in depth version, that's honestly a good chunk of my own meta-analysis around the events of volume 5.

Honestly, volume 5 is full of really interesting scenes regarding Jinshi and MaoMao. This is the first volume after Jinshi has been forced back into Imperial Brother status, yet the first thing I noticed that actually changed between JinMao is how MaoMao takes initiative with him now. As soon as she learns an insect plague might be on the horizon, she dives into unprompted research and delivers her findings to Jinshi. She's no longer working at the palace or for Jinshi, but she still takes on the extra burden. She also takes initiative to get Jinshi some extra sleep (though she misinterprets his desire to not sleep alone). And later in the novel, when they're in the paper makers' village, MaoMao acts so cute when reapplying Jinshi's burn scar makeup. I'll let screenshots talk for me.

Like man. She's so cute. And I wonder, if these two didn't have to deal with social standing and imperial drama, would we get way more of them just being cute and companionable? If MaoMao wasn't an unwitting member of the Who Wants To Be An Imperial Princess race, would her feelings for Jinshi have grown without so much pushing and urgency on his end?

But I digress. I think a lot of volume 5, especially once they reach their travel destination, is MaoMao trying her best to keep her blinders on even though she is in the thick of imperial drama. She's especially desperate with regards to the blazingly obvious fact that a certain someone of very high status is in love with her. I think the end of chapter 6 does a very good job of driving home one of the major reasons why MaoMao is reluctant to trust Jinshi's feelings.

To add fuel onto this unfortunate fire is that MaoMao, as an unmarried courtesan's daughter, was attacked as an infant by her mother, sought after by fucking Lakan of all people, ignored while crying as a baby, and forcibly taught sex (to the point of tears!). She also had to cover for Luomen's own eccentricities, specifically ensuring they had enough money to feed themselves. MaoMao, to put it shortly, has been taught not to believe she can attain anything beyond her very simple life of being a lowly apothecary.

And then here's Jinshi who, as a prince, has been forced to grow up fast & have all his favorite things taken away from him. I think MaoMao is the first time he ever wanted a person. He is, for lack of a better word, obsessed with her. I think a lot of his pushiness & tendency to be clingy with her is him desperately trying to make sure he doesn't lose her. If he makes her his wife, then, well, she can't leave.

And I think the choking scene is him finally at his breaking point. At this point, he has lavished her with gifts, been very forward sexually with her twice, and given her a new hairpin that is essentially this story's version of a promise ring. It's MaoMao's repression/reluctance vs. Jinshi's desperation and so far she's winning.

But then she pushes him past his breaking point and he takes physical action against her. MaoMao responds by performing an unspecified sexual act on him.

So why don't I personally take this scene as sexual assault?

Mainly because I think the people actually guilty of sexual assault her are the Verdigris House women who forced MaoMao to learn sex.

As far as I understand it, whether MaoMao can actually say no to Jinshi is left up to interpretation. If we're talking on social status terms, she can't say no. But if you look at Jinshi's overall treatment of her, both before and after this scene, I very much think MaoMao can say no and instead chooses to defuse the situation.

Because what isn't for interpretation, however, is MaoMao's abysmal impression of what love and sex can actually be for her. So she defuses a situation by using sex, something she herself doesn't like, and doesn't allow Jinshi to reciprocate, which leaves him feeling terrible, too.

I want to be clear. I do think Jinshi is in the wrong for physically attacking MaoMao. But the sexual portion of the scene, at least to me, falls squarely on the shoulders of MaoMao's fucked up backstory.

Anyway, I think I've typed for long enough. I am using the official translations of the light novel for this analysis, so if any fans have access to alternate translations or WN only knowledge that throw my analysis in the trash bin, please let me know (fyi puedo leer el español).

[apatheticcrossovers]

sea fairy cookie x firey headcanons

(For these headcanons,firey is trans mtf and is used to date leafy but is good terms with her)

Oooh, this is an interesting ship, I hope you like them! - Mod Apathetic

Sea Fairy Cookie x Firey Headcanons

Fandoms: BFDI, Cookie Run Ship: Firey (BFDI)/Sea Fairy Cookie (Cookie Run) Characters: Firey (BFDI), Leafy (BFDI), Sea Fairy Cookie (Cookie Run) Tw: none Summery: General romance headcanons for Sea Fairy Cookie x MTF! Firey

They actually met exactly the way you'd think they would (/s). Thanks to another one of Blocky's pranks, Firey ended up on a piece of driftwood out in the middle of the ocean. Sea Fairy was the first to respond when she called for help, immediately realizing what the problem was. I mean, it wasn't hard to piece together that a living fire shouldn't be out in the ocean on a flammable object.

Sea Fairy helps drift Firey back to shore, making sure that Firey didn't fall in the water in the process. The entire time Firey was absolutely enamored by this beautiful and strange figure that had come to save her. Sea fairy Cookie was nothing Firey had ever seen before, and she couldn't but feel a magnetic pull towards her, despite them being polar opposites.

The moment they made it to shore, Firey asked Sea Fairy Cookie out on a date, knowing this might be her only chance to be with her. Sea Fairy Cookie was both stunned and concerned. She couldn't lie that Firey was cute, but she couldn't but feel as if she was too dangerous for Firey.

"Firey, My deepest apologies, but, I'm afraid we could never be, as the goddess of water, I feel as if-" "I-I promise I can make it work! Besides, I've been put out before, we could probably just bring me back!"

Sea Fairy was a bit relieved, but still reluctant about this, cause even if Firey could come back, Sea Fairy would never be able to live with herself if she did something. It was only a few moments of back and forth before Sea Fairy finally agreed to go on a date. It wasn't anywhere fancy, which Firey was most embarrassed about, but Sea Fairy found it cute. She really did enjoy spending time with Firey. Perhaps... she should give her a chance.

They both knew they could potentially hurt each other due to their nature, so they made workarounds, and started out small. They'd mainly just hold hands, and eventually found out the quick kisses didn't cause either of them too much damage.

Sea Fairy didn't even realize Firey had an ex-girlfriend until Leafy specifically mentioned it to Sea Fairy. It wasn't in a 'jealous ex' way though, but more in a 'hey I know you're now dating my ex and there are some things you might wanna know to keep them happy. Sea Fairy was a bit surprised, she wasn't unfamiliar with the concept of staying friends after a break-up, up she wasn't sure how it was so easy for Leafy to accept that Firey was dating someone else now, let alone talk to her new girlfriend.

"So I'm sure you're still working on physical affection right? Yeah, it took a while for me and Firey to figure kissing out, I think what we did is-" "Wait what?" "Oh, did Firey never tell you? I'm her ex-girlfriend! I thought you'd appreciate it if I told you a few things about Firey you might need to know." "And you aren't bothered by the fact that I'm dating your ex?" "No, why would I be?" "..."

That's not to say she didn't accept the help, she was just a bit cautious at first. All the advice did help a lot though, so she was very thankful for that.

[ladyartemesia]

TEASER: Kim Seokjin and the Mean Omega

Pairing: Nerd Alpha Kim Seokjin x Popular Omega Reader

Genre: A/B/O • Enemies to Lovers • (Sorta) College AU • Best Friend's Brother AU (Who is surprised? No one?)

Teaser Word Count: 3.6K

Teaser Warnings: A/B/O sexual dynamics • suggestive content

Rating: Explicit (18+) (Teaser is PG-13)

Summary: In the modern world, alphas are almost unheard of so why even bother learning about them? After all, as a spoiled (but reasonably kind-hearted) omega who is used to getting whatever she wants, you have better things to do. However, when unexpected circumstances throw you in the path of (extremely) nerdy and (probably?) shy Kim Seokjin, you're shocked to discover that he won't be wrapped around your little finger as easily as all the rest. Bringing that infuriating geek to his knees quickly becomes your personal mission in life... But it turns out that Kim Seokjin is not what he appears to be and the mean omega who eats beta boys for breakfast is about to get way more than she bargained for...

Author’s Note: This story would not be here without the love, support and friendship of my incredible support system. You talk with me, you laugh with me, you listen when I’m crying, and you read my chaotic drafts when I am ready to pull my hair out of my head in frustration. I love you all. @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen @lemonjoonah. ALSO thank you to each and every one of you who encouraged me to post this story. This fic is dedicated to all of you as a token of my love and appreciation. Your support keeps me writing. Never doubt that for a second.

“...due to discriminatory anti-alpha policies in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, alphas were nearly eliminated from the general population…”

You heaved a weary sigh and rolled your shoulders—stretching the buttons of your high-end Oxford shirt to their limit. The beta sophomore to your right whined audibly and you smirked.

“...despite efforts to restore the genetic balance of designations, alphas currently comprise less than one percent of the population…”

Your back arched slightly as you crossed your legs, letting the absurdly short hem of your skirt ride up even higher. The poor boy you were tormenting shifted miserably in his seat.

How was he supposed to focus on a Human Biology and Designation Studies lecture when the living breathing embodiment of every sweaty undergrad’s fantasies was twisting her fingers in her hair and wrapping her pretty pink tongue around a strawberry lollipop right there in the middle of class?

“...unlike betas and omegas, alphas possess enhanced strength and the ability to compel other designations with their voice. Unmated alphas especially were often baselessly feared and distrusted...”

You knew exactly how you affected boys like him. You were a shameless tease who relished their attention and the power it brought you. Who needed drugs when driving a man mad with desire was a rush more potent than any high?

“...and that’s all for today so please read pages 450-466 in the text over break and remember to turn in your essay on scent and consent in intimacy—”

That poor sophomore looked like he had finally worked up the courage to speak to you, but you were already out the door and tearing down the hall toward your beautiful (and entirely platonic) counterpart, Kim Taehyung.

“Do you think Professor Moore is unaware that class is over at 3:25 or is he just torturing us for science?”

Taehyung shrugged, falling into step beside you with practiced ease.

“I mean I would torture you for free so it’s hard to say.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at his characteristic dry humor, but the irritation at being held in that sweltering lecture hall for an extra ten minutes had frayed your temper.

“It’s the last class before spring break, I’m sure he was on some sort of twisted power trip.” You dug around in your purse for some chapstick, ignoring Tae’s amused snorting, “Alphas barely exist anymore and none of us are likely to meet one. Why bother learning what they can do?”

Taehyung tilted his head in amusement.

“You might be surprised.”

The final party before the beginning of spring break was always a laid back affair.

Many people had already caught planes to their various destinations, but your flight was scheduled for early tomorrow morning—leaving you with some time to kill.

Taehyung pressed his newest experimental concoction into your hand within minutes of entering the house (a surprisingly neat bachelor pad owned by two seniors, Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi) and then darted back to the kitchen to craft more questionable alcohol potions like a deranged party warlock.

You had just found a comfortable place on the couch and were contemplating whether sampling your best friend’s mad scientist elixir would be worth the probable damage to your body when—

“H-Hello...”

It was that sophomore from your Designations Studies class. What was his name again? Jungwoo? Jinwook?

“Jungkook,” you smiled, delighted to have remembered before it became awkward. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You motioned to the empty cushion next to you and the man in question scrambled over like he’d won the lottery.

“I—I know we don’t know each other well, but I noticed you were absent during Professor Moore’s lecture on intimacy and scent consent so I—” he blushed deeply, “I wrote the essay for you—and I brought a copy on my flash drive if-if you want it.”

Your heart melted immediately.

“Oh my gosh Jungkook, that is so sweet of you!”

Your gaze darted over his muscular form and thick brown curls.

Sweet indeed.

“I don’t want to miss out on the learning though,” you pouted, placing a hand on his tattooed bicep. “Can you explain it to me?”

Jungkook nodded vigorously even as his wide eyes fell to where your fingers were sliding slowly over his chest.

Scent consent was a pretty basic and universally known concept, but you really were touched by the handsome sophomore's consideration.

Why not give him (and yourself) a little reward?

“Um so basically if two people are involved in...intimate activities—”

You leaned forward to nip his ear lightly and he whimpered.

“Like this?” you asked innocently.

“Y-Yes. Like that.” He gulped. “In an intimate situation consent or refusal can be smelled. The scent of refusal or reluctance in intimacy is strong, unmistakable, and has a high chemical potency.”

“Is that so?” you drawled, sliding over onto his lap. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back into his head and you bit back a grin.

He was adorable.

“Uh-huh—it—oh my gawd,” (you were nibbling on his ear again) “it can immediately block sexual arousal and performance in the other partner. Meaning, if consent is not present, then it becomes difficult or—ahh” (his voice began to waver under your continued attention) “—or even impossible to continue with intimate acts.”

Your hand slid up to his cheek, bringing him closer till your lips were almost touching.

“Then what does it mean if I’m still so turned on right now?”

“It means,” Jungkook shuddered—nearly delirious with your scent, “that I really really want you.”

Across the room, Park Jimin chuckled as he watched you seduce his enthusiastic friend.

Jeon Jungkook was such a sweet kid.

Hopefully he wouldn’t get too attached.

“Wow... Some people are genuinely born blessed I suppose.”

Jimin turned to see Jung Hoseok eyeing the dimly lit corner where you and the eager young sophomore were exploring each other.

It was a rather...provocative spectacle. Not quite raunchy (you weren’t truly an exhibitionist)—just insanely sexy.

Jimin’s gaze lingered on the smooth curve of your thigh where Jeon Jungkook was currently holding on for dear life.

Lucky bastard.

“Ah you know how she is,” he sighed. “That boy isn’t going to get any farther than anyone else.”

It was relatively common knowledge that you liked to mess around but rarely—if ever— fully hooked up with anyone.

Jimin asked you about it once during a drunken game of truth or dare and you had just shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of avoiding STDs (which—to be fair—was at least part of your motivation), but the truth was a little more complicated than that.

In terms of experience, you weren’t a virgin, but... you hadn’t actually had sex in years.

You loved the chase, the foreplay, the build-up—the game of cat-and-mouse between two people who were attracted to one another.

But the final consummation was always so…

Wildly unfulfilling.

Every encounter left you frustrated. Empty.

Grumpy—even.

So you stopped bothering with it all together. (That was what sex toys were for after all.)

At the end of the day you were perfectly content being labeled a tease—it meant that people tended to know what they were (or rather weren’t) getting into when they rolled the dice with you.

Besides…it hadn’t even put a dent in your throng of admirers.

You were sunny, spoiled, indulgent, almost universally adored—

And you loved every minute of it.

“You know…” Hoseok took a long sip of his drink. “I always thought she would end up with Taehyung, but it’s been three years.”

Like you, Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat and it was only natural that two beautiful and absurdly privileged people would gravitate to one another. You met at a freshman pledge party and had been an inseparable (and formidable) dynamic duo ever since.

The undisputed king and queen of campus.

Yes—maybe the two of you were a little self-absorbed at times, but it was hardly your fault that people tended to instinctively cater to the force of your combined looks, wealth, and charisma.

And it didn’t hurt that neither of you were ever intentionally cruel or unkind.

Just... habitually thoughtless.

(Though not when it came to each other. If anything your friendship was one area where you were both a little more human.)

Jimin shook his head.

“Nah that’s never gonna happen.” He tapped his nose. “They’re scent-crossed.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

Scent-crossed pairs didn’t smell sexually attractive to each other.

Like. At all.

No matter how physically or visually appealing an individual might be, it would be near impossible to form a sexual or romantic attachment to them if you were scent-crossed. Alphas, betas, and omegas were all subject to their noses first and foremost in the realm of attraction.

You and Taehyung smelled like comfort and home to one another...

But you were more turned on by a crisp cup of apple juice than you were his scent and the feeling was quite mutual.

He might as well have been your actual brother.

“That explains so much.” Hoseok snorted as he watched a drunken Taehyung do a flying leap on top of both you and Jungkook.

“Why is sunlight so offensive?” you croaked, dragging yourself and your luggage toward the boarding ramp next to an equally miserable Taehyung.

“The next time I book a flight before 9 AM, please shoot me,” he grunted.

Your parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a month-long European cruise so your best friend had graciously invited you to spend two glorious weeks of spring vacation at his family estate.

The invitation had actually come as somewhat of a surprise because—for all your closeness—Taehyung was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about his family.

Not that he was deliberately withholding information per se… It was just that he never really brought them up beyond an occasional passing comment.

The one time you did ask him about them directly he sighed and said—

“We’re very close, but… I suppose we’ve just gotten used to being very private.”

There was clearly more to the story, but you were confident that Tae would share it if and when he was ready.

“My parents are in Seoul opening a new branch of the company. They took my little sister with them and my older brother has his own house so it will be just us.” He snuggled deeper into the first class seat directly next to yours. “We’ll hang out by the pool and chill during the day, then hit up some of the new clubs or whatever at night.”

“So… No one from your family will be there?”

Perhaps the invitation was not so surprising after all.

“Nope. Just you and me and thirty acres of ocean front property.”

You grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Whose room is that?”

The two of you were lugging your bags down the main hall of Taehyung’s expansive mansion when a strange hint of...something caught you right by the nose.

Your friend turned to find you frozen and staring curiously at a familiar door near the balcony.

His eyes widened, but you were too preoccupied to notice his momentary concern.

“That’s just Jin’s room.”

A firm hand wrapped around your wrist and dragged you away, but your eyes stayed glued to the source of the mysterious scent until you were around the corner and out of sight.

Your suite for the next two weeks was right across the hall from Taehyung’s. There was a whirlpool, a full bath, a balcony, and an ocean view that would rival the cover spread of any travel magazine.

Tae headed for the shower (to ‘wash the airplane off’) immediately after showing you the room and you were thinking of doing the same except…

Your mind kept going back to that door and the hint of scent you detected.

There was something… different about it.

It was faint—and far from fresh (which made sense considering that one of the few things you did know about Kim Seokjin was that he hadn’t lived in this house for years).

But still…

The need to smell it again pressed insistently at the back of your mind.

Suddenly the sound of Taehyung singing raunchy lyrics in the shower carried over through the walls and you found your feet moving almost of their own accord.

What Tae doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you rationalized, making your way down the hall toward Jin’s door. Besides—it’s not as if I’m going to steal anything…

You just needed to find that scent again.

By the time your fingers closed over the knob every one of your nerves was strangely—acutely—alert but nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting behind the door.

Oh. My. Gosh.

“What a colossal nerd.”

The room was covered floor to ceiling in Nintendo memorabilia.

Bright primary colors assaulted your eyes from all directions in the form of action figures, posters, pillows, and every other conceivable merch variety known to man.

In the center of the suite stood a large king-sized bed covered in a custom black couture toile-style Mario-verse bed set (that looked every bit as expensive as it was geeky) and a mountain of high quality Nintendo character plush toys.

Everything was simultaneously luxe and nostalgic—a rare combination of sophisticated aesthetic balance and childlike indulgence.

And the scent was there.

It was faint and covered under layers of cleaner and air fresheners, but still lingering just below the surface—too weak for you to get a really good whiff, yet potent enough to torment you.

You moved forward unconsciously toward the strongest source of the hypnotic smell—the strangely inviting expanse of Kim Seokjin’s mattress.

Suddenly the urge to climb—no crawl—across the bed itself and roll around in it like a kitten in catnip gripped you out of nowhere.

“What the hell?” you muttered, rubbing absently over the mating gland at the base of your neck.

Something very odd was going on with your body.

Your restless gaze zeroed in on one of the stuffed toys piled atop his pillows. It was a cute little mushroom man your brain recognized as a Mario character named ‘Toad’.

Take it.

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

You need it.

“Am I going insane?” you wondered aloud.

You have to take it.

Muscles in your hand began to twitch involuntarily. You bit your lip.

Bring it back with you.

Several minutes later a freshly washed Taehyung wandered over to your room and found you sitting perfectly still on your bed while staring off into space.

His head tilted in curious concern.

“Everything ok?”

You started a bit at the sound of his voice, but recovered quickly.

“Never better!” you chirped—almost too brightly. “Let’s go get some dinner, I’m starving.”

Then you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall toward the kitchen—shutting the door before he could catch a glimpse of his brother’s stuffed Toad doll stashed underneath your pillow

“...a critical water main rupture in the city’s New Market district early this morning has forced several residents out of their homes as flood water swelled up to nearly two feet. The governor declared a state of emergency and ordered hotels around the city to accommodate the displaced citizens. Crews are still clearing the water and assessing damages. We expect—

“Hey!” you shouted through a mouthful of cereal, after Your best friend switched off the television, “I was watching that!”

“And what you should be doing is getting ready for the pool.” Tae snatched your cereal bowl and dragged you by your shirt collar toward the stairs. “It is the first morning of our vacation. I’m not trying to waste any time. Now go.” He shoved you forward, smacking your ass for good measure.

You swatted back at him half-heartedly as jogged back up to the room where you enjoyed a surprisingly restful sleep last night.

Kim Seokjin’s door glared at you accusingly as you shuffled past—unable to let you forget that you had kidnapped it’s little mushroom man in an unexplained fit of kleptomania, but that was a problem for your future self.

The you of right now was going to zen out in the Kim family's premium glass-enclosed indoor pool (it was still a little chilly for the outdoor pool) with her best friend and bask in the simple joys of good company and no responsibility.

...Or not.

A few minutes later you bounced into the living room wearing a simple black tankini with a cute floral cover only to find Taehyung on the phone with his head in his hands.

“Yes, sir. I understand… I...I know this is my responsibility...”

That didn’t sound good.

After a few more tense moments, Tae hung up and collapsed backward into the couch with a heavy sigh.

“That water main break you heard about on TV this morning was the last straw between the province and its current contractor. They called an emergency meeting for new bids.”

Your heart dropped as you sank down beside him.

“Your dad wants you to go...doesn’t he.”

Taehyung nodded miserably.

“He can’t leave the Seoul opening on such short notice and managing government construction contracts is part of what I’ve been training for. This could be huge for our company.”

“Well...why doesn’t your brother go?”

“Jin is the brains behind most of our patented gaming and tech innovations. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with this sort of thing. Besides,” his lips quirked up in a rueful grin, “my brother doesn’t have the patience to stroke entitled geriatric egos for hours on end—which is likely what I’m going to have to do.”

The two of you headed back to Taehyung’s room where you helped him pack some suits and toiletries for his trip.

Naturally you were disappointed but...this was a great opportunity for your best friend to prove himself in his chosen field and you both knew it. In fact, he was already starting to brighten a bit.

“The meeting is about a hundred miles north of here. My dad’s secretary already handled the flight and hotel room.” His eyes darted around the suite to see if he was forgetting anything.

It was clear he was nervous, though you were sure he didn’t need to be. Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat, but he was also talented and deeply passionate about his family’s company.

Someday this would be the norm. The two of you were stealing time in college, determined to live a little before the expectations of your powerful families transferred fully onto your shoulders.

It was becoming more and more clear, however, that your carefree time was slowly running out.

Mother had already spoken to you about potential marriage alliances and your father expected you to intern with his Vice President this summer just as your elder sister had...

Taehyung’s voice suddenly interrupted your bittersweet introspection and you couldn’t help but smile at how grown-up he looked in his suit and briefcase ensemble.

Everything was going to change, but not quite yet.

“They estimate negotiations should take around a week or so…” He walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. “There should still be some vacation left for us when I get back.”

“Hurry back then,” you mumbled grumpily into his chest and he chuckled.

“I will.”

Taehyung had been gone for less than twenty minutes when you decided that the best use of your time would be to eat more snacks.

The last thing you expected when you skipped merrily into the kitchen was to find it occupied by a shaggy-haired homeless man in glasses.

Your first instinct was to scream which caused the homeless man to drop the apple he was biting right onto the floor where it rolled around for a small eternity before coming to rest at his ankles.

Your second instinct was to grab a butcher’s cleaver from the nearby knife block and wave it chaotically at the intruder while shouting something along the lines of—

“You’ve made a huge mistake! My boyfriend is the biggest, meanest mafia boss in Seoul! Leave now and he might let you live!”

The homeless man continued to stare at you with a mixture of confusion and shock, but made no move to run away in terror like you were hoping.

So you tried again.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! The last man who touched me drinks his steak through a straw now! Do the smart thing and leave before my boyfriend comes down those stairs and it’s too late!”

Infuriatingly, the homeless man was still not fleeing for his life and frankly you were starting to get frustrated. You drew in a deep cleansing breath and were prepared to issue another grandiose threat when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, miss. I... think there’s been some sort of mistake. Who is your boyfriend?”

There was no rational explanation for what came out of your mouth next, but it rolled off your tongue so smoothly and you didn’t even flinch.

“Kim Seokjin.”

For the first time in your entire exchange, the intruder looked truly alarmed.

Now that’s more like it.

“You’ve heard of him I see. He’s a dangerous man and my body belongs to him.” You slammed the cleaver down onto the countertop with a (hopefully) menacing slash. “Kim Seokjin doesn’t like when other men put their hands on what belongs to him.”

There was a long, unpardonably tense moment of silence…Then the stranger slowly reached forward and picked up a mobile phone from the table in front of him.

His eyes remained locked with yours as he pressed a quick series of buttons, brought the phone to his ear, waited a few seconds and said—

“Taehyung… Would you mind telling me why there is a half-naked, knife-wielding omega in our kitchen claiming to be my girlfriend?”

Hello! Please comment on this post if you would like to be added to the taglist!

You guys were all so wonderful, and encouraging, and excited that I literally got this teaser out in three days! If you like what you read so far, please let me know! I cannot put into words how meaningful and valuable feedback is to me. I truly treasure it! It fuels my creativity and keeps me writing. I would love to hear from you!

[dmwrites]

Chapter 8- The End

Ch.1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7

——

The condition of the earth had worsened in the short time they were inside, somehow. Xisuma hasn’t been lying about the raining backwards thing- there were now distinct holes in the ground where blocks had once been, and said blocks were not coming back down anymore.

“Holy shit.” Cleo exclaimed, and a grass block flew up right past her face. “Holy shit!”

“There has to be a way to get you out of here.” Joe was leading the way back to the castle, walking fast.

“Absolutely not.” Michael said firmly, making both of them turn to look at him incredulously. “It’s like a sign from the universe or something. I said I’m not leaving you, and I really mean it.”

“Michael, this is no time to be a martyr!” Joe cried, raising his hands in exasperation. “You don’t belong here! You were only supposed to come and try to help, and then leave! You’re supposed to just be a guest!”

“But I failed.” Michael whispered. “The moon is coming, and there’s nothing that can be done to stop it from coming or me from staying. It’s the twelfth hour now, guys, and it’s time to accept it. Whatever happens next, we’re going together.”

Just then, there was a message in the chat.

<mumbojumbo: hermit meeting at spawn in twenty minutes, come if you are still around>

“Why the hell do they think now’s a good time for a meeting?” Cleo griped. “What, are we gonna be indecisive about the moon or something?”

“I mean it get it, since it feels like the last hurrah- as for spawn town, I don’t-” Joe suddenly stopped dead, frozen with one leg off the ground kind of comically, mouth open.

“What is it, Joe?” Cleo asked, stopping too.

“Spawn… tell me, Michael, where is your spawn set right now?” Joe put down his foot and looked right into Michael’s eyes.

“Uh, I think in the tavern. Why?” Michael asked.

“And if you died, you would respawn there, assumedly, correct?”

“Yeah…”

Joe began to pace. “But what if your spawn anchor was destroyed? You would go to your spawn chunks, right? Would you end up in the Hermitcraft spawn? Or-”

“Or back to the Dream SMP spawn since that’s your real spawn!” Cleo gasped. “Oh my god! That’s so convoluted it just might work!”

“What, are you gonna kill me to test it out?” Michael asked, trying to make a joke. It sounded ridiculous to hear them talk in such ways.

Cleo and Joe looked at each other. “The end fountain.” They both said.

“The fucking what?”

<mumbojumbo: meeting in ten minutes>

Joe took Michael’s hand and began to run. “We need to go, now.”

--

When thinking of apocalypse, there is a certain kind of movie expectation of how it is going to go, how everyone is going to act. This had, for the most part, held true, what with the panicking and the insanity and the general fear. What Michael hadn’t expected was two things. One, how fast the end was coming; the sun had set by the time the three got back to the castle, and the moon seemed to have doubled in size- not only that, but the ground around them was disintegrating so quickly that walking was more of a hopping dance. Two, Michael hadn’t expected the brief reprieve. 

Spurred on by Joe and Cleo’s stress, the deadline of the hermit meeting, made Michael, despite his reluctance, run up the stairs of the tavern to his bedroom. He opened the door and slammed it shut, and there it was. The brief reprieve. Michael just breathed for a moment, and it was like everything was alright again. With the curtains on his window shut, and Joe and Cleo at the castle breaking their own beds, it was like he had come back from another night of observing the moon and singing songs around the campfire. With slow, almost defiant movements, Michael reached for the leather jacket he had come here in. He looked around at the rest of his stuff, clothes mostly, strewn about the room, and chuckled. Messy rooms didn’t matter when he was going to die. Because that was just it, wasn’t it? He, Cleo, Joe. They were all going to die. No use taking any clothes with him. 

Michael broke his bed as they asked and paused at the door. At the last second he grabbed his journal of moon observations, and closed the door behind him. One way or another, he assumed, he would not be coming back to this cozy tavern. 

--

The End, as Michael would later come to understand, was another dimension, like the nether, which was accessed through a structure called a stronghold. Similar to elytras, the dimension seemed to be something off-limits on the Dream SMP. Not that it looked like an interesting place, really. Pale yellow stone and obsidian pillars and endermen. And the giant portal-looking hole in the ground under a small bedrock structure. That’s about it.

“Guys, I don’t know about this…” Michael said, approaching the portal. “Seems pretty far-fetched, no offense Joe. Maybe we should just go to the meeting.”

“It’s the twelfth hour like you said, Michael. We gotta try this to get you out, at least.” Joe replied.

“I’m not leaving you!” Michael said for probably the tenth time in the past half an hour.

“Like hell you are!” Cleo did something she had never done before- she strode forward and hugged Michael very tight. Michael instinctively put his arms around her. “Michael, you have to go. You were never supposed to stay here, and I’m not going to have you die because of us.”

“You have a way out, Michael. You’ve been nothing but selfless to us, but you need to be selfish now.” Joe joined the hug, and the three sunk to the ground, while blocks rose all around their huddle.

“We’ll go with you to see if you end up at Hermitcraft spawn or not, hold your hands until we can’t anymore. But you have to leave us, if you can.” Cleo whispered into his hair. “We lo-” she stopped herself, clearing her throat instead.

Michael grabbed her hand and squeezed it, and then reached for one of Joe’s. They stood up together and looked at one another, watery smiles on their faces.

“Wait! I meant to give this to you ages ago, but kept forgetting!” Joe suddenly said, letting go of Michael’s hand to dig around in his pockets, and pulled out a CD labeled “Sean Hills sings Joe Hills: volumes I and II”. “It’s all of my songs, sung by my sibling Sean. Maybe you can add it to your music collection.”

The three floated up into the air as Joe handed the CD case to Joe, and they both held onto it until they were dropped again.

“Oh my god, Joe, this is… I’m gonna treasure this.” Michael slipped the CD into an inside pocket of his jacket, right by his heart and next to his journal of moon notes. He let out a long breath. “Okay. I think I’m ready now.” He stepped up to the edge of the end fountain, and he felt Cleo and Joe join him on either side, grasping his hands again. And then, they jumped together.

--

The end fountain portal is different from other portals. Nether portals are purple and wavy, sickening in their patterns as you travel through them to a reddish hell. But the in-between here was something different entirely. A more fitting ending, if this really was the end.

Michael, Joe, and Cleo were floating in an inky forever, with rainbow flashes of zeros and ones flying over and around them. And they were still here, together, holding hands. Cleo and Joe moved to grasp each other’s hands as well, so they formed a triangle.

“I’m so sorry.” Michael told them. Their faces blurred, and Michael desperately blinked back tears. He didn’t quite know how, but he knew this really was goodbye. It all seemed very real suddenly, in this mysterious, beautiful nothingness. 

“Go now!” Cleo said, and she let go of his hand first and cupped his face with her hand momentarily before pulling back, red hair blowing all around her as they floated through whatever space this was. She kept her head high, those green eyes searching his face as if trying to memorize it. A storm of a woman, with a heart of solid gold to match, words forever unspoken stuck in her throat.

“You have everything you need, and one hell of a story, if you choose to tell it.” Joe said. “Goodbye Michael. I hope the music is sweet to you.” And he too let go, tears freely falling under his cartoonish glasses, and redoubling his grip on Cleo’s hand.

There was a sudden static sound so intense that he couldn’t even think, and then, Cleo and Joe were gone, and Michael fell into nothingness.

——

It was a rainy night on the Dream SMP, and Alesa had a chill playlist of songs going on the radio. She had the fireplace roaring, and was doodling mindlessly on the wall.

The scraping of a key in a lock cut through the silence, and Alesa jumped to her feet, running across the small house just in time to see Michael walking through the front door.

“Michael! Holy shit! What the fuck happened to you?”

Michael strode past her in silence, soaking wet, stringy hair a curtain blocking his face, and headed straight for the radio studio.

“Michael?” Alesa closed the door against the storm and followed him into the studio. Michael sat down, and turned to finally look at her, and Alesa was shocked to find tears in eyes that looked like they had aged many years. He then turned his attention to the microphone, lowered the song volume to mute, cleared his throat, unmuted the microphone, and began to speak.

“Creatures, humans, gods, and whoever else is out there in the weird, wide world, it is December twenty-second, and tonight, I’m going to tell you a story. A story of horrors I hope you, dear listeners, will never have to experience. But, really, it is a story of strength, love, and friendship. You may call me a myth-maker, always with the conspiracy theories, but tonight, I promise you that I tell nothing but the truth. Either way, sit back, as I tell you the story of Michael and Joe and Cleo’s super big adventure...” Michael paused, and he smiled just a little bit, “featuring the moon”.

[reidyoulikeabook]

Personal Google

4 times Spencer knows the answer, and the 1 time he doesn’t.

Summary: Spencer is your own personal Google. He always knows the answer to anything you ask him.

Warnings: Pining, slow burn-ish (?), reader and Spencer are both idiots who aren’t acknowledging their feelings for each other. Some mentions of a case and case-typical violence. No references to the gender of the reader!

Word count: 2k (this ran away from me)

A/N: Part two to this is here!

Requests: open!!

“Hey Spence?” You call, barely looking up from your phone as you scroll through Twitter, “What’s a hedgefund?”

“Are you reading about the GameStop stock?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

He clears his throat, and you look up at him, “Okay. A hedgefund is a way for accredited investors to invest in a way that minimises the risk to their own assets. Without getting too complicated, because it can get really convoluted, it’s basically just a way for rich people to get richer a lot of the time because a prerequisite for investing in the majority is having a high net income or a high net worth to begin with.”  

You smile, “So basically rich people are getting screwed?”

“Something like that.”

“Good,” You respond, putting your phone away.

You swear you hear a little laugh escape his mouth as he turns back to the computer at his desk.

***

You’re sat on the jet, in your usual seat next to him, when everything starts to go pear-shaped. It jolts a little, sending you knocking into his side. You grimace.

“It’s just a little turbulence,” Hotch says, “Probably because of the storm coming from the East. We should be landing soon.”

Rationally, you realise there’s nothing to be afraid of. But it’s easier said than done to keep rational when the plane’s rattling like a pack of smarties and your head is bashing against Spencer’s bony shoulder every five seconds.

He senses your unease, tentatively reaching across to take hold of your hand. His instinct is to supply statistics about plane crashes but something in him tells him you won’t respond too well if he tells you the odds of getting in a small plane crash are higher than a regular commercial flight but still lower than the chances of being involved in a motor vehicle accident. Instead, he chooses a different tactic.

“It’ll be alright, we’ve been in the air for two hours and,” He squints at his watch, “Forty-three minutes. This flight’s two hours fifty-eight tops.”

You nod, “Hey Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember this morning when you were telling me about the French dancing plague and we got interrupted by the call about the case?”

You don’t have to say anything more, he immediately launches into a spiel about France in 1615: the death of crops, how the people felt they were being spited by God, the whole thing. He gestures wildly with his free hand, but the hand that lies atop of yours doesn’t budge an inch. You rub small circles on it with your thumb, which goes unacknowledged. Privately, you’re a little disappointed. Privately, he’s afraid you’ll stop if he points it out.

***

It’s been a long and fruitless day. The local PD had been worse than useless, they were so reluctant to accept that anybody from their town could possibly have been responsible for what was going on that it felt like a constant battle to get anything done. You’d been out interviewing possible witnesses from the local bar. Well, trying to, you would have been a lot more successful if the Sheriff hadn’t constantly been under your feet, undermining your questions and generally resulting in making you look like an idiot.

Hotch had chewed him out in the end, relinquishing you from interview duty to help Spencer with the geographical profile back at the station. He’s scribbling away on the map while you slump in the chair, a little defeated.

“Hey Spence?”

“Hmm?” He hums in response, not taking his eyes off the section he’s just crossed out.

“How come you’re ruling out that side of town?”

He flips the whiteboard pen in his hands, returning its cap before turning around to you, “A lot of the area over there is industrial. I’ve been combing through to get a closer look, but it doesn’t look like our unsub would have the kind of privacy he needs. There are a lot of factories, granted, but they’re pretty much all occupied. He’s meticulous, I don’t think he’d take the risk of working in an environment where he couldn’t control anything and risking getting himself caught. And from what we know about him he certainly isn’t affluent enough to rent property on that side of town. Rent is almost three times as expensive there,” he gestures with his hands, tapping the lid of the pen on the area he means, “I think he’s more likely to be from the northmost part of town.”

You smile, “I don’t know how you do that.”

He opens his mouth to respond before seeing the softness in your eyes, realising you’re not asking for an explanation. You’re giving him a compliment. His chest feels a little warm.

***

You can’t sleep that night, despite how exhausting your day has been. You’d think the physical and mental exhertion would knock you out but instead you’re sat on your bed, idly flipping through TV channels. Not much is on except some old NCIS re-runs, and oddly enough you don’t feel like watching a crime show.

You could text Spencer. The thought appears in your head of its own accord, without your consent.

You could though.

10:12pm - You

You’d think after a day like today I’d be able to get some rest

10:13pm - Spencer

You can’t sleep?

10:13pm - You

No, sorry, I didn’t think you’d be asleep

10:14pm - Spencer

I can’t sleep either, don’t worry. Do you want to come over to my room? I have a documentary about Pearl Harbour I was going to watch

10:14pm - Spencer

Or we could do something else. Not sure if Pearl Harbour is more fun for you than struggling to fall asleep

10:15pm - You

A Pearl Harbour documentary sounds great

Thankfully you’d had the forethought to bring nice sleeping attire rather than your old ratty ones. You’d learnt your lesson before, when your presence had been required in the middle of the night and you’d had to scramble down to team meetings in pyjama bottoms that had a hole in the right thigh.

You take a quick look at yourself in the mirror, some anxiety fluttering in your stomach for some reason.

It’s odd. It’s hardly the first time you’ve been over to Spencer’s room for crying out loud, I mean he’s the person you’re closest to on the team and your best friend and your private yearning for him is mostly   inconsequential. Mostly. Except you fix your hair and smooth down your top a little anyway.

He’s only three doors down and it’s easy enough to slip quietly into his room. He sits on the bed, two glasses of water resting on the bedside table, his laptop resting by his knees. He’s illuminated by the bedside lamp next to him, and his hair looks fluffy as hell. No doubt from him running his own hands through it in frustration today. He smiles at you, patting the space next to him.

You pad across and join him, “Hey Spence.”

“Hi.”

His laptop isn’t particularly loud, and the screen isn’t very big, so you end up sat quite close to him. The laptop rests on his lap. You hesitate before nuzzling in against him, feeling how his breath catches in his chest as your head rests against his on the bedframe.

“Is this okay?” You ask.

“Yeah,” He answers, a small content smile playing on his lips, “Yeah this is okay.”

***

You’re not sure when or how you fell asleep but you wake up with a start to the sound of pounding on the door. And you’re not in your own bed. You briefly acknowledge the warmth next to you before it’s gone, Spencer leaping out of bed to answer the door.

“We’ve been-” Emily stands in the doorway, the bedroom lamp that you must have neglected to turn off allowing her to catch a glimpse of your dazed face, “Reid, why is ____ in your room?”

Spencer opens his mouth, flustered and unsure of what to say, floundering between looking at you both for a moment before  Emily rescues him. The digital clock obnoxiously blinks the time: 2:18am.

“Okay we’re definitely talking about this later but there’s another body, Hotch wants us all down at the station in 15.”

It occurs to you, as you rush embarassed from Spencer’s room, apologising to him at least five times on your way out, that the only thing standing between you and a million questions about your personal life is the focus on an unsub who you’ll hopefully catch today. You shrug your clothes over your head, replacing them with fresh ones and pulling on your shoes. The jet home is going to be fun.

—-

You were right to be hopeful about today. The unsub is tracked down and arrested by the time night comes around. His arrest is clean, no hostages and no shots fired. Really, in your line of work, it was the best possible outcome.

Hotch made the call that you’d spend another night here, since there was paperwork that’d need to be taken care of in the morning and some final loose ends that required wrapping up. You suspected some small part of it was because J.J wanted to ensure you made nice and left things on good terms with the local PD before you left, since there’d been a lot of headbutting throughout the case. Spencer had also been completely right about the geographical profile, the unsub had been working and killing from a rundown ramshackle house in the northmost suburb.

Speaking of Spencer, you’d barely acknowledged each other since this morning. Sure, you’d shared rooms together before, even beds when the occasion had called for it, but you’d never been so intimate before.

Maybe it was best for you both if you just ignored the whole thing entirely, carried on as normal. Yeah. Yeah that’s what you’d do.

You worried about the meaning of anything you said being lost over text so you headed to his room, knocking on his door. It brought a small smile to your face to think how you’d been on the other side of it the last time someone knocked.

He opens it, just slightly, before relaxing when he sees it’s you, “Hey.”

“Hi,” You step past him into the room, watching him close the door and take a step towards you.

He waits for you to speak.

“So. We never finished that documentary.”

He laughs, soft, “We didn’t.”

“Do you want to finish it now?”

“Uh…”  He visibly pauses and you feel a small twinge in your chest. Maybe you’d made him uncomfortable, maybe you’d misread the whole thing, maybe you’d...

He interrupts your self-deprecating runaway train of thoughts with a simple, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

As you settle down to watch the film, his laptop situated firmly in the middle of the bed this time, you feel the gulf between you. Empty space where his leg rested against yours yesterday. Still, that was what he wanted, right? His own space. Not to talk about it.

You don’t notice because you’re watching the documentary, but Spencer has to stop himself from reaching his arm out for you when he stretches. You didn’t want to talk about it, obviously. Meaning you probably wished it hadn’t happened. He tried to ignore the ache in his chest at that thought, the hollow feeling it left. Thankfully it wasn’t too long before you spoke again.

“Hey Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this historically accurate?”

And explaining the nuances of Japanese-American history is much easier for him.

[djarinsbeskar]

PREQUEL ARC: PART 2 - THE HOUK

A/N: Part 2 is here! First and foremost, can I just say thank you so much for the reception Part 1 received and to those who (gasps!) actually want me to tag them for updates??? I don’t know how to react??? I’m so touched??????? It’s so motivating and has reminded me why I love sharing my scribbles!

There’s a greater focus on world/character building in this chapter so if it feels a bit rambling or description heavy, I do apologise! Like I said, I’m trying to build some context to the reader-insert before we get to the smut, and I hope that I’ve kept her general enough that she doesn’t cross the line too much into OC territory and becomes unrelatable. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! My style of writing leaves much to be desired so I would love to know if something doesn’t make sense so I can improve and fix it. But enough of that, on with the show!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language and slight injury detail.

Plot: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

8 ABY, Mynock, Dandoran.

The second time you met him, he had dislocated his shoulder after a nasty clash with a Houk.

Your dealing with the Mandalorian on Klatooine had moved to the back of your mind and you rarely, if ever, thought about it. It was merely another encounter with a rough character that needed some medical attention. You wouldn’t have been able to hazard a guess at how many similar characters you saw in a week while you worked at the clinic. Even more so when you’d left Klatooine after becoming disillusioned that the New Republic were actually trying to make a difference.

You had heard stories from the Core and Mid Rim planets. Stories of the investment and progress being made to rebuild after the tyranny of the Empire, of the billions of credits being poured into the development of new ship building centers on Corellia and large, extravagant residencies for government members on Coruscant. Things, you were sure, that were not actually urgent necessities as they were desires. Especially given that the funds you received from that same government to sustain the clinic thinned before drying up completely a few months after your encounter with the Mandalorian.

…Hemorrhaging more credits than is justified for the benefits we’re seeing in return.

The busybody politician with a colorful title and even more colorful robes waxed poetically, hiding the sentiment of disinterest in ways only a politician could. Half-heartedly trying to distract you by his explanations with empty praise and gratitude for your service during the Rebellion and your humanitarian work now, a true embodiment of what the New Republic stands for. He crowed like the colorful bird he looked like, dressed as he was with fine feathers lining the lapels of his robes.

You bristle at the memory of the hologram’s eyes flickering to look at anything besides you, running down the time you had spent weeks trying to get.

That was when the memory of the Mandalorian surfaced, surprisingly. How the day after you treated him you arrived at the medical center and saw  a familiar pouch of credits sitting innocently behind the check-in desk. When you enquired with the receptionist, she told you it was sitting there once she opened up earlier that morning. The only note left being on one of the datapads behind the desk, the scrawling font reading; to help with your work. You had let out a chuckle to yourself as you checked your schedule, wondering if the brutish male you had treated last night really was as cold as he portrayed himself to be.

The memory had incited a righteous anger that a bounty hunter was more willing to support a voluntary clinic than the government that set it up in the first place was.

I thought the Empire were the ones who put a credit limit on what a life is worth. You had hissed in return, interrupting what you were sure was a well-rehearsed and well used speech, before hanging up. You pressed the heel of your hands into your eyes, taking a shuddering breath as you tried not to be nihilistic in thinking that you had spent nearly half your life thinking you could make a difference, when, you were just serving the Empire in different clothing.

It wasn’t a fair comparison; you knew the New Republic was neither as cruel nor as tyrannical and oppressive as it’s predecessor, but you had been made so dreadfully aware that in places like the Outer Rim, people would always be overlooked by those in power because they simply didn’t offer enough to be worth looking at.

The realization was a raw wound to your soul. You had lost brothers and friends to the fight for liberation, but it didn’t seem as though the grass was much greener on the other side. Maybe elsewhere in the galaxy it was, but where you were needed most, the grass was dehydrated and dying under the relentless sun.

With the clinic penniless, your meagre pension from the Rebellion was not nearly enough to keep it functioning. Add to that the reluctance of the other medics to run the clinic alongside you out of their own pocket and the intergalactic beacon for medical aid that alerted anyone in the parsec of where to go being disengaged, traffic stopped. The native Klatooinians preferred their own healers and very rarely, if ever, sought out medics from the New Republic.

For the first time in your life, your path wasn’t clear. If you even had a path anymore.

That was how you found yourself on Dandoran, flying off a week after the last of the medics left Derelkann to the first planet that was habitable to humans. But by the Maker, it was even rougher than Klatooine. The temperate climate and lush greenery were more comfortable for you, but the city you found yourself in, Mynock, was to say the least, undesirable. Having once been Hutt Space, there were still several illegal operations active that kept the city going and you learned early on what areas to avoid and to always carry a blaster with you. But at least where there was activity, there was work for you.

***

You met Biran Sonter the very day you arrived, asking directions to the nearest medical facility, hoping they could use another medic. He was an elderly Mirialan male with a wealth of history behind him, his facial tattoos creased with deep wrinkles and a kindly smile that reminded you of your grandfather.

You were flabbergasted to learn that during the time of the Galactic Republic, he acted as the royal physician to the palace on Naboo.

As you choked on the tea he had kindly made for you at that revelation, you couldn’t ask him quickly enough how he ended up here? On an Outer Rim backwater skughole of a planet and his tale had been sobering. When the Republic first fell, anyone who did not immediately surrender to the rising Empire was terminated. Biran had, at the time, only heard word of the death of the beloved former Queen Amidala and blamed the Empire vehemently. Escaping on one of the last shuttles from the Mid Rim planet before legions of clones descended, he arrived on Dandoran where no one, not even the Hutts cared enough to notice him. All they knew, was that he was an excellent doctor who charged little for his services and kept to himself. That was good enough for them. While he treated a vast number of criminals ranging from thieves to bounty hunters, he was not wholly merciful. He somehow managed to avoid or talk his way out of treating anyone in the organized crime syndicates or known traffickers and killers. It may have gone against a physician’s code to do ones best to save every life, but he like many, made their own code in the Outer Rim.

You fell into a fast and easy friendship with the Mirialan after that, your similar histories of working in the medical field despite being decades apart giving you plenty to talk about. The practice Biran ran in Mynock was always busy and he was only too grateful when you offered to take the weight off his old shoulders and gradually, his clients began to expect to see you most of the day and Biran for a few hours in the early morning. You were never short on work between cantina brawls, accidents and the downright attacks that took place in Mynock and the next eighteen standard months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, Klatooine a distant memory, as was the Mandalorian you met there.

The night you saw him again, was no different to any other you spent enjoying a quiet drink before heading back to turn in for the night.

You had been in the process of leaving the cantina, recognizing that the later it grew, the rowdier and aggressive the clientele became. You could handle yourself as well as anyone who made their home in Hutt Space, but you knew better than to be blatantly reckless when you were on your own. It wasn’t like you had the squadron you stayed with throughout the Rebellion for backup as you once did, and your closest ally would probably break in half if you pushed him too hard. So no, you were not staying late with Mynocks newest resident of a Houk warlord and the company he seemed to attract.

The Houk in question was a cruel and belligerent brute, a former local warlord by the name of Gappo Teff. His reputation for inflicting punishment disproportionate to any slight committed against him or the Empire was one of the many echoes of the former imperial rule that was still being felt in the galaxy nearly three years after its collapse.

The stories of the chokehold he held over Sullust would make even a hardened soldier’s stomach churn. How he managed to escape the liberation of the planet without being dragged to the noxious surface of Sullust to suffer for the pain he had caused so many, was a mystery. But there he was, sitting like a king in the cantina you found yourself in, bellowing laughter ricocheting obnoxiously throughout the space, not a care in the world that he was a wanted felon.  

It might have been to do with the fact that he was at least seven and a half foot tall, with a mass that could easily fit three of you side by side across him and still not be seen. It might have been to do with the cold, milky blue of his small eyes, sunk into a skull so large it could probably shatter ribs and rupture organs if one were to be headbutted with it. The last thing anyone wanted was those eyes focusing on them. It could have been the heavy artillery modified blaster he kept laying on his lap; the weapon more of a cannon for those of a more regular stature. Whatever the reason, very few bounty hunters and even fewer New Republic guards came to collect him. He was probably one of the most easily found quarries on all Guild registers and New Republic wanted lists and yet, he languished in Mynock as if the Empire had never fallen and his reign was still assured.

Making your way to the entrance, you came up short as someone walked in, your nose coming abruptly close to a reddish-brown durasteel chest-plate. Taking a step back, your eyes did a double take at the familiar unpainted beskar helmet. Subconsciously, you had stepped to the side, the Mandalorian continuing to walk without a word as if you hadn’t nearly walked into him. Mandalorians were a rare sight these days, so you could be forgiven for staring. Though, you were most likely staring for entirely different reasons compared to everyone else in the cantina.

The armor was the same, if not a bit more worn, as was the dark boiled woolen cape and pulse rifle strapped to his back. But it was the gait; how could someone walk both gracefully and arrogantly, almost cocky in his self-assurance that he was in control wherever he went. It explained why he was so determined not to let his injury be known by his walk the last time you saw him. Because you had seen him before, there was no doubt in your mind that this was the same irritable reek of a Mandalorian you met in Derelkann years ago.

He stood in the middle of the cantina, assessing the place as his helmet scanned the area. If you didn’t know any better, you say he was…

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You muttered to yourself when the helmet stopped on Teff. When you said bounty hunters didn’t bother to come after him, you should have been more specific. Smart bounty hunters didn’t bother hunting Gappo Teff, which explained why the one you knew of was right there looking for him.

A choice lay before you. Leave now and lock your doors until morning… or wait. For what, you couldn’t be sure. But if the Mandalorian wasn’t killed tonight by Teff, he was going to wish he was with the injuries he would probably sustain.

You let your head fall back on your shoulders as you exhaled. Why were you so soft for lost causes and wayward souls?

The Houks bodyguards left much to be desired, crumbling to the ground before they had even drawn their blasters, smoke rising from the blaster wounds inflicted effortlessly by Din.

The bodyguards weren’t what worried Din. Their boss hardly needed protecting, and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The groan and screech of the metal table being shoved away by Teff as he stood to his full height made Din grit his teeth, arms open as he boomed, “Ah Mando, I was wondering when you’d try your luck at me. Your reputation is becoming rather infamous throughout the parsec.”

A guttural, wet laugh left the purple skinned quarry as Din remained silent and kept his blaster aimed. Damn, but the piece of bantha crap was big. He quickly scanned his peripheral, but it seemed the residents of Mynock had more self-interest than to trade blaster fire over one warlord, the barkeep casually making his was into the backroom of the bar to keep out of harms way.

“Why don’t you hang up that Guild work and let me make you a better offer.” Teff boomed, taking a swing of his drink, streams of the yellow fluid running down the sides of him mouth as those frosty eyes stayed trained on the bounty hunter.

Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet; negotiations by the quarry were his least favorite reaction to being caught but he knew better than to think he had captured the colossal male yet. Until Teff was either dead or frozen in carbonite, he was a danger. Luckily, the orders were to bring him in dead or alive. Seems the New Republic were fed up with him still breathing. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

“No?” the Houk pushed when Din didn’t respond, “Too bad, you’d have made an excellent addition to my collection.” And with more speed than Din had anticipated from the large male, he charged.

You had the good sense to leave the cantina as soon as the first blaster shot was fired, pulling the hood of your dusty grey jacket over your head while you made your way back to the practice to gather a few things. Things that would be completely obsolete if he died but you wouldn’t think that far. You were a realist, not a pessimist. The Houk might have had the advantage of height and sheer strength, but the Mandalorian was quicker, possibly smarter, and decked with enough firepower to make a starfighter pilot drool.

So, you put the odds about sixty forty in favor of the Mandalorian. Not that you would ever tell him that.

Teff roared in anger as Din rolled out of the way again, shooting his grappling hook to latch onto the Houks shoulder and yanked hard enough to throw the male off balance. Despite his large size however, Teff was able to slide his foot back to catch himself, putting him in direct line with Din.

He was on his feet in no time as the Houk charged at him, lowering his head so that on contact, Din’s left shoulder was thrown back into the wall of the cantina. His breath left him as the impact winded him, a dull but growing pain throbbing from his shoulder before Teff’s vile breath permeated even his helmet and a large hand wrapped around Din’s throat. He could feel his feet leave the floor and the weight of his body pulling downward made the pressure on his windpipe all the heavier.

“Oh well, at least you tried.” Teff gloated, his head leaning closer as if to peer into the visor and that distraction was all Din needed to lift his hand and engage his flamethrower, engulfing the Houk in flames. Din gasped in a breath when he was dropped, the squeals of pain coming from Teff disconcerting as he staggered around the cantina, desperately looking for something to extinguish the inferno his clothing and more vulnerable tissue had become.

Din waited a few more measured breaths before lifting the blaster and shooting the quarry in the vulnerable side of the neck, satisfied with the resounding bang the body made as it fell to the ground, flames still burning bright until he picked up the half-drunk tankard on Teffs table to douse the fire lest he be completely unrecognizable upon delivery.

Din looked around, the cantina was empty; the silence suddenly deafening as he looked back down at the body.

Now, how to get him back to the Razor Crest.

Din sighed.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

You held up your hands unsurprised when the Mandalorian spun on the ramp of his ship, blaster raised and aimed right at you. He tilted his head slightly, taking you in and you tried not to fidget under the gaze you could feel raking over you despite not being able to see his eyes. What you could see though, was how limp his left arm was hanging to his side.

“The demon medic from Klatooine.” He muttered, finally placing your face and lowering his blaster slowly while you lowered your arms.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You snorted before nodding to his arm, “And you’ll probably be calling me a lot worse when I tell you that that arm needs tending to.”

He shifted slightly, turning his body so you wouldn’t be able to see. You just crossed your arms across your chest and stared at him pointedly. He held your gaze and was still as a statue. You could play the silence game too if that was how he wanted to do this. It was only a matter of time before one of you broke and you weren’t the one with a dislocated shoulder, so you’d say that the odds were in your favor.

It seemed like time dragged on before, without saying anything, the Mandalorian sighed and turned towards the ship.

You bit down on a smile, but you could still feel it creeping upon your lips as you congratulated yourself on winning. Two nil, you tallied in your head, not bad girl.

The ship… well the ship was a fossil and that was being generous. But it was clean and obviously well taken of, if the tidy hull was anything to go by.

Apart from the charred corpse lying in the middle of course, but those were just details. Easily overlooked. The smell however… that was a different story, but you held back any comments. You still couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to drag a fully grown Houk through the town one-handed, but then you knew that the strength and discipline of the Mandalorians was unrivalled. He could have done it through sheer determination and honestly, you were lucky to have found him at all. But people in Mynock liked to talk, so following the rumors' had let you there relatively easy.

A sigh broke your train of thought, “Let’s get this over with.”

The warrior seemed resigned to his fate as he stepped over the corpse and you followed suit, mind instantly running through the correct procedure and treatment.

“We have to get the bone in the upper arm into the correct position before it slips back into joint, otherwise the force will just break your arm.” You explained as you moved to stand in front of the large warrior when he sat back on one of the many crates pushed against the wall of the ship. You could barely hear the short exhales coming from the modulator and you could only guess that he was holding back speaking, whether in pain or frustration that you had strong-armed him into accepting treatment again.

“But hey, look on the bright side.”

His visor tilted slightly to look at you.

“No droids needed.” You shrugged a shoulder and sent him a grin when he said nothing. When he looked away, you focused your attention back on the problem shoulder; it wasn’t immediately clear that it had been dislocated, the pauldron he wore hiding the jutting ball of the joint that was no doubt pressed uncomfortably against his flesh. What you could see was that his left side was hanging just a bit lower than his right, and the inability to move the arm was a dead giveaway.

“Are you just going to stare at it or actually do what you said you would when you barged onto my ship?” The rasp was closer to you as he turned his head, the rumble of his voice decidedly deeper than you remembered last time. Or perhaps it always had been, and you just hadn’t been paying enough attention, more focused on the very real threat of having a dead body on your hands as the poison spread. You rolled your eyes; or it was all the short and biting commands he only seemed to know how to give as opposed to actually speaking that made you forget the voice. The man could be attractive, if he wasn’t so frustrating.

“I can’t see it properly.” You replied, agitated with him again. He got under your skin too easily, and ruined your cool demeanor.

“You dealt with the problem just fine before.” He snapped back, pain making him cranky.

“You didn’t have a bone out of place last time!” You stopped yourself, sucking in a breath before releasing it to prevent yourself from snapping again.

“At least,” you bartered, “let me remove the pauldron. I can feel around the duraweave to get an idea. I won’t see any more of you than I did last time.”

He didn’t say anything again for a time and honestly, he was the slowest person you’d ever met at receiving emergency medical care. Half the men you treated during the Rebellion would yell until you’d taken care of the worst of their injuries before they even considered if it was what they wanted or not.

“Fine.” Was all he responded, making no move to remove the offending piece so you took that as your cue to feel around the curved metal cautiously, feeling where it attached to his duraweave and releasing it into your hands before placing it down on a separate crate.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” A warning growl echoed in the hull, turning you back to your task with a hum.

It seemed the joint had popped forward, no doubt from caving in as Teff collided with Mando’s shoulder. You leaned forward, your fingers feeling around the area as gently as you could while his breathing came out a little shorter. You sent him an apologetic smile.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stay still, okay? Usually I’d have someone to hold—”

“I can keep myself still, just do it.” He snapped finally, turning to look at you before he looked away again. You said nothing more as you took his gloved hand in yours, turning the forearm over and feeling the hand clench in yours when he hissed.

“Shh, nearly there.” You soothed, moving your hand under his elbow to lift it so it was aligned with Mando’s shoulder. You stood, keeping the arm in place and twisting yourself to stand facing his side.

You were definitely out to get him. There was no other explanation for why he only seemed to be seriously injured in your presence. Din tried to tell himself he was being over-dramatic and irrational, that you hadn’t even been on the same planet when he was injured the first time, but then you opened your mouth and he felt justified in his petulant thoughts.

“On three.” He heard you warn and all he could offer was a single nod; the sooner he got this over with the better.

“One…” You jerked the arm forward and slipped the joint back into place quickly with a sickening crack and searing pain took his breath away before it began to ebb immediately.

“DANK…. FERRICK!” Din yelled as his good arm reached across to grip his left, bending forward as he breathed through the flash of pain. You moved out of his way, waiting for him to look back up at you through the helmet, deep pants making his chest heave. You cocked your head to the side when his eyes found yours, a clear question there.

He groaned as he sat back, leaning his head against the hull, “It… doesn’t hurt as much anymore.” He admitted, thinking that the smile you gave him was somewhat worth the knock to his ego at having to admit such a thing in the first place. And like last time, before he could even worry about the concerning direction that thought had led to, you were fluttering about opening crates and bins as if you owned the place.

“What the hell—” he made to stand indignantly.

“Do you have any spare cloth?” You interrupted, “Your arm needs to be bound for a few days. If you have bacta it might reduce the healing time a bit but honestly, I don’t think dislocations can be rushed despite recent studies. Rushing back to heavily lifting or activity for at least six weeks is a sure way to hurt yourself again.”

You were rambling now as you set a pile of disused yet clean cloth you found on your lap, sitting across from him as he just blinked at this enigma of a woman. Giving him orders in his own ship, were you daft?

Your eyes sharpened and shot to his and he was suddenly glad you couldn’t see behind his mask. His eyes had widened guiltily at the thought that you had read his mind.

“You will do what you’re told, understand Mando?” You warned as your fingers tied a loose sling from strips of cloth you’d pulled apart without even having to look at it, deft fingers looping the material and strengthening it with several more layers woven in for good measure.

“If you insist on getting injured so often, you live with the consequences. And the consequences are doing what you’re fucking told and being happy about it, got it? Sulk if you want, so long as you keep the arm bound and don’t take on any jobs for at least two months.”

He opened his mouth a few times at the audacity, did she have a death wish? He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him as if he were no more than a child and it made his blood boil. But just as quickly as the anger arose, it simmered as she muttered while watching her fingers tie off the sling,

“You don’t actually seem like a bad guy, and the galaxy can’t afford to lose anymore… not bad guys.” She seemed unsure of giving out even this level of praise but then again, she only had their first encounter to go by.

He grunted; not sure how to respond. And when Din was uncomfortable, he resorted to silence.

You got to your feet once the sling was suitably strong enough to support the weight of his arm without unravelling or breaking and you indicated to him, “May I?”

He jerked his head up in affirmation and you maneuvered the sling to sit correctly under his elbow and forearm, coaxing him to lift it slightly with a tap before you looped the tied end over his helmet, adjusting the length slightly to fit against him.

“You left Klatooine.” the statement rose from the warrior, his tone quieter than you’d heard him all day. Was he... trying to make conversation? Din told himself that it was merely out of curiosity from seeing you by chance on two totally different planets.

Blinking in surprise, you sat back on the crate in front of him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on one of your hands, “New Republic stopped funding the clinic and I realized that they’re all the same when it comes to the Outer Rim.”

He snorted in agreement, honestly, he wasn’t surprised to hear the New Republic had cut their losses on charity. It wasn’t in their nature to funnel money away from the Core planets.

“But it’s not all bad,” you continued, “I work with a doctor here. He’s old now so he should be enjoying his retirement. I’m kept busy and…”

He watched you while he waited for you to finish, surely there was more? But when you just shrugged and sent him a tight smile, he felt an uncomfortable niggle at the back of his neck, a familiarity that made him almost want to smile back even if you couldn’t see it. Almost. But not quite. He was unnerved at the… empathy he had for your situation. He too just… kept busy. It wasn’t towards any end beyond supporting the covert and the foundlings there. But for himself, he just kept working towards some translucent, non-existent goal, one job ended, and another began.

Something in your eyes told him you were doing the exact same thing. It unnerved him to think about.

“Echoy’la…” the word left him without knowing and you blinked,

“Hm?”

He shook his head and stood, grunting a bit at the ache in his shoulder when it jostled a bit, “Nothing. It seems I owe you my thanks again, demon medic.”

“I do have a name you know.” You snorted, letting the previous topic go as it seemed to just make him more awkward and grumpy than he already was. You packed away the medikit and replaced the unused cloth back where you found it.

“Somehow I don’t think it’ll be as fitting.”

“Whatever, sunshine.” You looked over your shoulder at him, the sling looking so out of place as he hooked a thumb in the utility belt he wore. It was amazing that he could still look as intimidating as he did. You gathered your things and started down the ramp leisurely. He followed you silently until he was standing at the entrance to the ship.

“Demon or not… thank you.” He called out as your feet hit the dusty ground of Mynock once again. You looked back over your shoulder and gave a single wave, calling something back to him that did make him smile behind his helmet this time.

As you disappeared into the streets of Mynock, he tested the name you had thrown back to him, rolling the syllables, and testing the vowels as he repeated it to himself.

Pity, he thought. He hated being wrong about anything, but somehow, your name was a much better fit than demon medic.

Not that he would ever admit that to you, of course.

Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel​ @sarahjkl82-blog​

[robininthelabyrinth]

"The Untamed", but Jiggy has a white cat whom he tells everything.- May or may not be sentient or 'spiritual' like Fairy in the book. (From an idea I've thrown around with my friend @yraelviii)

ao3

He found the cat in Qinghe.

“What are you doing here?” Meng Yao said, crouching down to try to scoop out the little handful of white fluff underneath his cabinet only for it to bare its infantile fangs and him and hiss, moving its butt around as if it thought his fingers ought to be running in fear from its fearsome pounce. “How did you even get in here?”

The cat – a kitten, really, small and scrawny, dirty and covered in ashes as if it had just run out of a forge, but no less passionate for it – squirmed in his hand as he picked it up.

“Who owns you?” Meng Yao asked, and the cat hissed viciously as if to shout no one owns me!

Something about that echoed in Meng Yao’s heart – no one owns me, he thought – and so he fished up some extra meat from his plate, filled a small platter with water, and used the sleeve of an old outfit that needed to be taken to be laundered anyway to wipe the grey ash off of the cat’s white fur while it was distracted by sniffing suspiciously at the food and water that it ultimately declined to consume.

“Just this once,” he told it.

-

Doing good work will often only bring you more work, Meng Yao reflected, and so it was with the cat as much as with anything else. He still didn’t know how the cat managed to get into his rooms, and he sometimes dwelled on paranoid suspicions that there were hiding-holes in his chambers designed to allow others to spy on him, just as there had been in certain rooms in the brothel – though even at his worst moment of uncertainty and doubt he didn’t really think so. He knew that it wasn’t Nie Mingjue’s style even if Meng Yao had been someone important enough to care about, and anyway he didn’t question his own ability to discovery such a thing if it had really existed. He’d checked.

At any rate, however it kept getting into his rooms, the cat was now a regular presence there, lurking around.

It didn’t want to be petted and greeted all attempts to feed it with utter disdain, but despite its general standoffishness it seemed to like being in the same vicinity as Meng Yao, enjoying nothing more than to settle haughtily by the window in his room and watch over Meng Yao as if it thought he might get lost without its supervision.

Meng Yao thought it was probably someone’s pet gotten lost, or maybe even just a feral cat from outside (Qinghe had a fair number of them) that had figured out that it could access the good life by going inside, but it was very hard to sincerely worry over the ill-intentions of a cat, and he was already very busy.

If he didn’t need to care for it, then it wasn’t adding to his troubles. Let the cat sit where it liked!

Meng Yao had found that life in Qinghe was both different and similar to life in Yunping, the only life he had to compare it to, and it amused him to think of the great and righteous Nie sect as an overly large brothel, with the main difference being that they sold their strength where women sold their bodies. In both places there needed to be order, someone to sort things out and tell people where to put things and what to do; in both places Meng Yao, with his quick mind and excellent memory, his sense of understanding people and anticipating their needs, was utterly invaluable in arranging such things.

He had, admittedly, expected it to take a little more time to climb up to the top – the only person he couldn’t understand in this place was Nie Mingjue, who was far too easy to deceive and smiled at him like he really thought they were friends instead of just being master and servant, who appreciated his talents and told him so, who shrugged off his mistakes and had faith that he would do better, who ignored his status instead of lording it over him the way Meng Yao had expected him to. Even when he was angry, when he shouted and slammed his hands against things, Nie Mingjue never once mentioned Meng Yao’s background, and the only things he seemed to hold against him were his own mistakes.

Meng Yao still didn’t know why Nie Mingjue would act so rashly as to promote someone he had just met to a position as high as viceroy, much less actually trust him, but it didn’t really matter. However quixotic his method of reaching a place of power, he was here and his next task was to keep his place until he’d made a reputation for himself.

Part of that he did through his work, good critical work that people needed and which had always won him gratitude even if not respect, but the other part of it was in cultivation. That was the way in which the Nie sect was not like a brothel: you couldn’t just be clever, you couldn’t even just be beautiful - to be respected, you had to cultivate.

Not that wanting to cultivate was a problem for Meng Yao.

He’d always had a memory like a sponge and a body that obeyed his every wish, his childhood of mimicking the beautiful dances of his mother and her ‘sisters’ serving him well in transitioning to learning the sword even if he was years behind everyone else; his mother had bought a thousand fake cultivation manuals for him and he’d learned them all, each one of them more useless than the next, and now that he was here in the cultivation world at long last, he was finally, finally, finally able to cultivate for real.

Using Nie sect methods, of course, even if that wasn’t what he really wanted.  

He’d started as soon as he could when he arrived, endlessly grateful that the Nie sect provided training sabers without cost, and he’d snuck one away back to his room so that he could practice on his own time, knowing it would take a long time to form his golden core. He’d debated with himself for a long time as to whether or not it was worth it to invest in a real one – if the training sabers were free, then real proper Nie sabers were somehow three times as expensive as the swords you could buy in the marketplace, and you could only put in a deposit without any notion of when you’d actually get the saber, apparently subject to the contrary dispositions of the spiritual weaponsmiths that made them.

In the end he decided to go for it more or less on a whim, emptying out his hard-built savings to place the order, even though he knew he would one day need to discard whatever they made for him in favor of a sword.

The Jin sect would accept him one day. He would make them.

(If the Nie sect cultivation style was good for one thing, he thought as he went through endless drills of slashing and thrusting, it was that you could work out your anger while you were doing it. There was nothing quite like imagining the face of someone you hated and then bringing down the practice saber in a vicious slash, and oh, but Meng Yao hated so very many people.)

The cat liked watching him train most of all, although Meng Yao suspected it was because seeing him jump around panting was funnier than watching him sit at his desk and gracefully write out letters. It would occasionally start purring, a sound a little like a crackling fire, and eventually Meng Yao got into the habit of going to run his fingers through its fur as a reward for himself when he successfully completed a training sequence.

After a while, he started talking to it, too.

“That commander,” Meng Yao said as he brought the training saber down. His real saber was still on the order, probably stalled purposefully; the smith assigned the task was probably one of the people that thought they were too good to deal with him because of who his mother was, and it’d all been a waste of money in the end. Completely a waste, even if Nie Mingjue had smiled so happily at him when he’d heard about Meng Yao placing the order, his eyes warm and soft and how had that man survived so long in this wretched world of politics and pain, didn’t he know he would always be deceived and betrayed?

Why should he be the exception to the rule, when everyone else had to suffer?

Meng Yao threw away the unhelpful thoughts and thrust the saber forward, as if piercing his invisible opponent straight through the chest.

“That commander.” He minutely corrected his form and stabbed again, this time as if piercing through the belly: a gut wound, a slow and awful way to die. “He’ll regret what he said to me.”

The cat’s purring intensified.

Meng Yao briefly had the wild thought that it approved.

“I just –” Another thrust. “– need to figure out –” An overhead slash. “– how.”

-

Meng Yao ended up taking the cat with him when he left Qinghe.

It probably was someone’s pet and he was opening himself up to a charge of stealing, a charge he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against now that he no longer had Nie Mingjue’s protection –

(Nie Mingjue who had wept tears and blood at what Meng Yao had done, betrayed at last after having finally encountered a deception he could not swallow, who had banished him from the Unclean Realm even after everything Meng Yao had done for him – who had, despite it all, still hidden an entire bag of gold and Meng Yao’s favorite Qinghe snacks in Meng Yao’s things with a short note claiming that it was for unpaid wages. As if Meng Yao had ever let a single pay period go by without claiming exactly what he was due. As if Nie Mingjue still cared despite throwing him out, as if he worried about how Meng Yao might live, as if he hadn’t given up the privilege of caring about things like that – )

He didn’t really care.

He wanted the cat, so he took it. It was the least Qinghe could do for him.

The cat spent all its time in his new rooms in the hotels he stayed out as he traveled: in his bedroom and study, the little gardens that, when available, he liked to use to train in the mornings and evenings. It would even follow him when he took a bath (although that was with great reluctance on the part of the cat, and only if Meng Yao were taking an especially long time in the bath and the cat was worried he’d drowned, yowling angrily as if it could revive him through the power of its voice). If it had once belonged to someone else, it now belonged to Meng Yao, and Meng Yao didn’t give away anything that was his.

“I’ve made worse mistakes,” he said defiantly to the cat, which blinked at him from its side of the carriage he’d used some of the gold to rent. “It’s only that I don’t want to review them in order to think of which ones those might be.”

The cat got up, stretched its back, and walked over to butt its head against Meng Yao’s hand before turning and going back to its spot by the window.

Meng Yao wasn’t sure if that was a sign of agreement or if the cat just thought there was a treat in his hand. Not that the cat had ever accepted treats from his hand.

He still wasn’t sure what the cat ate, actually, but he was sure the cat would make its feelings known now that they weren’t somewhere with a dependable kitchen, though he supposed there was always the possibility that it would start picking up hunting.

“Wen Chao said that they’d aimed at the Cloud Recesses,” Meng Yao said, deciding not to dwell on the things of the past. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could do about Nie Mingjue’s betrayed eyes or the snacks he hadn’t even known Nie Mingjue had known he’d liked, about the hand-me-down guans and trinkets that Nie Huaisang had insisted were part of his wardrobe when he’d helped him pack even though he knew Nie Huaisang still wore them sometimes, about the fact that he should have been ordered to take the Nie sect’s braids out of his hair when he passed by the gates for the final time since he didn’t deserve them anymore but the two disciples there had just nodded at him and let him pass without a word – nothing to do about the saber he’d ordered, still on the list to be made, and maybe if he made something of himself out in the world alone he would one day come back to claim it at last. “That’s where we’re going now. Lan Xichen might be in danger. I have to help him.”

The cat made a sound like it was considering hacking up a hairball.

“He was kind to me,” Meng Yao said, feeling defensive. “The only one who never judged me –”

Since he’d decided to forget about Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, wiping it out of his mind as if it had never been, that was even true.

“– and he’s a proper gentleman, a good man. I’ll help him.”

That Lan Xichen was also a powerful man was something he wished he didn’t think of, but he couldn’t help the way he was.

“After I help him, I’ll figure out what to do next,” Meng Yao said, like a liar, and the cat looked at him like he was stupid – which he was being, because of course he’d already planned out what to do next, figured out his next move, and there was no point in lying to a cat about it. Meng Yao had skills that were only useful in management, not labor, and the only thing he left to sell was information about the sect from which he’d just been ejected. “No one owns me, right? Let it be the Wen sect.”

The cat did not purr, but it didn’t condemn him, either.

That would have to do.

-

It was a good thing that Meng Yao’s cat was self-sufficient, he thought, because he had neither the time nor the stomach to feed it during his time at the Wen sect.

If he had thought he had worked hard at the Nie sect, he now knew differently: at least there the worst he had faced from his colleagues had been disdain and not outright murder attempts, back-stabbing and undercutting to try to show off to Wen Ruohan, and all the while the man himself demanded more and more from him without the slightest care for his own well-being. He was grist to the mill for Wen Ruohan, no matter how much the Chief Cultivator enjoyed having another man’s prized deputy as his own – Wen Ruohan might had been very nearly driven insane by the Yin Metal, but he still remembered old grudges – and it was night and day away from Nie Mingjue’s reliance on him that was based on trust, rather than reluctantly satisfied suspicion and paranoia.

Meng Yao had hidden the cat as best as he could from the start, thinking rightfully that people would try to use it against him, and to his relief it seemed that no one else had yet laid eyes on it and identified it as his own, despite its white fur standing out like a beacon to his sight. Unfortunately there were some people that had managed to figure out that he had a cat, even if they didn’t lay eyes on it themselves, and he’d had more than a few incidents in which someone had left poisoned meat out on the floor by his room in order to catch it.

The cat seemed as unimpressed with that as anything else.

Instead, the cat seemed to have taken up hunting as its pastime. It brought back the corpses of small birds, the Yin Metal-infused little spies, full of resentful energy, that Wen Ruohan had developed for his sons to use. At first Meng Yao worried about the cat getting somehow poisoned by them, but time went on and it seemed to be fine, even thriving. It had grown into a proper cat now, no longer a kitten, and it enjoyed licking its white and shining fur until it was gleaming.

It didn’t like Meng Yao’s training sessions as much – he trained with a sword now, two-faced just like him, and in a dozen different styles, Wen and Jiang and Jin, always Jin – so sometimes Meng Yao would go back to doing the old Nie sect style again, knowing the cat would recognize the familiar movements, and it was a surefire way to get the cat to purr.

The Nie sect style was also still the best for getting out anger, all aggression and sharp movements, and Meng Yao still had a lot of anger inside of him. He was starting to think he always would.

At least here in the Nightless City he could kill the people he hated, as long as he did so in low and dirty ways that didn’t trouble Wen Ruohan or interfere with his plans, and yet every time he did it, he felt no relief, only a vile and wretched stickiness that came, perhaps, from that awful Yin Metal that he had schemed over yet couldn’t seem to escape.

The cat didn’t like the Yin Metal one bit. It hissed and scratched, and in one notable incident seemed like it was going to pounce on it directly if Meng Yao hadn’t caught it mid-leap and shoved it into his sleeve before anyone had noticed it.

“You’re going to get me into trouble,” Meng Yao told the cat next time he trained, using the soft sword he’d hidden away for a time of need to hack and slash in the Nie way, which didn’t work with a soft sword at all but which made him feel strangely better. He was currently imagining Wen Ruohan’s head underneath a saber, his head and the heads of all those corpse puppets he’d created. “I will cut you loose if you do that.”

The cat rolled onto its back and showed its soft and fluffy belly, which only the truly unwise would seek to lay a hand on – Meng Yao still had scars – and Meng Yao rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said. “No one owns you, not even me. But do me a favor and don’t screw this up for me. Not when I’m so close.”

Lan Xichen had been accepting his letters and feeding them to Nie Mingjue, who trusted as blindly as he ever did. Meng Yao wished sometimes that he didn’t, that he would learn, that he would put some defenses up on that stupid reckless heart of his, but on the other hand it suited his plans very well that he didn’t.

Soon, he thought. Soon.

Soon he’d know what he needed to do.

-

“Now he chooses not to trust people,” Meng Yao complained to his cat. “Now. Now!”

The cat purred.

It wasn’t that Meng Yao (damnit, Jin Guangyao, he had a new name, he was Jin Guangyao now) couldn’t understand Nie Mingjue’s reluctance to trust him – fool me once, fool me twice, but three times seemed to be the other man’s breaking point – and in some ways he understood it more than ever now that he had been accepted back by the Jin sect, clothed in the gold he’d always deserved to wear.

Jin Guangshan hadn’t lost much in the war, not like the other sects, and the second it was over he was already scheming. Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao – was pulled right into the thick of it at once, less for his spying capability than for his sheer disposability, the fact that Jin Guangshan wasn’t willing to burden his pure and righteous heir with black matters that he was more than happy to taint the son of his whore with. With Nie Mingjue, general and hero of the Sunshot Campaign, representing the only real threat to the Jin sect’s domination, even if he didn’t want to be, Jin Guangyao was bound to be in opposition to him.

It made sense for Nie Mingjue not to trust him.

It irritated him regardless.

Still, lack of trust or no, Nie Mingjue had succumbed to Lan Xichen’s impassioned arguments and had agreed to swear brotherhood with him, even if Jin Guangyao suspected that Nie Mingjue’s primary motivation was to keep a better eye on him and scold him the way he did Nie Huaisang. It would be politically beneficial to Jin Guangyao to be tied in such a way to Nie Mingjue – it would suit his own desires as well, though that was less important – and so he had of course agreed as well, and he was planning on going to their oath ceremony in the outfit he had chosen for himself, gold from neck to foot, a sword he’d taken from the treasury since no one would order him one of his own, and a hat on his head like the ones his mother so admired to make up for his lack of height and to hide the Nie sect braids he still habitually wore underneath.

An old habit, and one he really ought to break, really. Ideally before Nie Mingjue figured it out and told him to cut it out.

There was a knock on the door, a familiar pounding, and the cat looked up, intrigued, even as Jin Guangyao sighed voicelessly to himself. Perhaps he had waited too long.

Perhaps it would be better to make a clean cut in this way, too.

He opened the door.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he greeted, thinking to himself that it would only be a few more hours before he was entitled to call the man da-ge as if they were nearly equals and how strange that would be. “Can this humble one help you?”

“Can I come in?” Nie Mingjue asked gruffly, his eyes lingering on Jin Guangyao’s uncovered and Nie-braided hair, just as he might have expected. Had expected.

Jin Guangyao nodded and stepped back, allowing him in, and closed the door behind him. “Could I get the sect leader some refreshments?” he asked politely, but Nie Mingjue seemed to have come to a stop right in the entranceway, surprise written all over his features. “Sect Leader Nie?”

Nie Mingjue was staring at Jin Guangyao’s cat.

“…Sect Leader Nie?”

Did Nie Mingjue not like cats? There were an endless number of feral cats in Qinghe, so it seemed implausible, and yet, here Nie Mingjue was, looking at the cat like he’d never seen such a thing before in its life.

Of course, at that exact moment, Jin Guangyao’s cat, the traitor, hopped off its pillow and went straight to rub itself against Nie Mingjue’s leg, purring like a little maniac.

Jin Guangyao stared at it, feeling thoroughly betrayed by what he would have previously said was his thoroughly unsociable cat, who had taken years to warm up to him enough to give him half the attention it was now bestowing freely on Nie Mingjue. Was this the heavens deciding to mock him for his earlier betrayals?

Alternatively, Nie Mingjue might just be very good with cats, which Jin Guangyao could believe. Perhaps he even carried in his pockets some of the Qinghe vine that cats were said to be so enamored of, although certainly Meng Yao’s cat had never once before shown an interest in such things before.

“…what’s its name?” Nie Mingjue croaked, voice hoarse. He was still staring fixedly at the cat, looking as though his entire world had shattered around him. He hadn’t even looked so unsettled when Jin Guangyao had so viciously mocked him at the Nightless City, and at the time he’d thought he was going to die and be turned into a corpse puppet to murder all his loved ones.

Jin Guangyao was tempted to say something rude or facetious, something like ‘I just call it Cat, why, do you name random cats?’, but the cat had been a good companion of his for a long time now and he couldn’t do that to it, even if he was currently planning on taking an extra long bath to force the cat to miserably linger by the door to the bathing room, screeching in unhappiness at the wet, but bravely (if grumpily) supervising him to make sure he didn’t drown.

“Hensheng,” he said, because that was in fact what he’d named it – it meant hatred for life, which was not exactly an auspicious name but which had stuck from the very moment he had thought it up – and waited to hear Nie Mingjue’s judgment. “It’s not normally quite so sticky,” he added in an attempt to save some face. “With most people.”

“Well, it’s me, that’s different,” Nie Mingjue said, and maybe the man really was just the human incarnation of the plant cats liked so much. Meng Yao really wouldn’t put it past him. “You...you cultivate in the Nie sect style? Still?”

Jin Guangyao blinked, surprised by the change in subject.

“Yes,” he said, a little hesitantly. He cultivated many styles now, although it was always the Jin sect style when he was in public. But he still had all the anger in his belly to vent – even more so now than before, anger at his father, anger at Madame Jin, anger at his brother born to a blessed life, anger at all those disciples that sneered at him even after he’d been legitimized, anger, anger, anger – and the Nie sect style had always been the best for that.

And anyway, it made the cat purr.

“Is that a problem, Sect Leader Nie?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Nie Mingjue said, and when he turned to look at him his eyes were warm and soft the way they’d been all the way before the fiasco with Xue Yang, shimmering with tears of joy and a smile that seemed to come straight from his heart, the foolish easily deceived man. It was so unexpected that Jin Guangyao actually took a full two steps back, his jaw dropping a little. “I’m happy for you. Very happy.”

He actually wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, dashing away the tears.

“You should come back to the Unclean Realm to pick it up when the brotherhood ceremony is done,” he added nonsensically. “I can’t imagine how long it’s been waiting for you.”

“…what?” Jin Guangyao said. “Pick up what?”

“Hensheng,” Nie Mingjue said, which – what? “Your saber. Hensheng.”

His saber?

The saber he’d never gotten, having been banished from the Unclean Realm before the order was finished, the one he’d spent all his savings on just in putting in the deposit, the one he’d never actually finished paying off? He remembered it, of course, and sometimes it still itched under his skin that he’d never gotten what he was owed because everything that was owed to him he deserved to get in the end. But…

“Hensheng is my cat,” he said.

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “That’s not a cat,” he said. “That’s a saber spirit.”

Jin Guangyao’s gaze dropped down to the cat.

The cat that never seemed to eat anything or drink anything, that never once fell for the poisoned meat or accepted his offers of treats, that no one in the Nightless City had ever seen with their own eyes; the cat that could consistently get into his rooms despite there being no holes for it to enter, as if it had simply passed through the walls like a ghost.

Like a spirit.

The cat, which purred whenever Jin Guangyao practiced the Nie sect forms, swinging a saber with rage in his heart.

The cat to which he had confessed all his anger, all his frustration, all his rage, all the feelings he never gave to any human being around him – the sabers of the Nie sect thrived on such emotions, those feelings that encouraged them and strengthened them, developing the saber spirits that made each one of them a spiritual weapon unlike any other, with power and rage infused into the very blade.

Saber spirits, which only those born into the Nie sect or adopted early, raised in their ways, one of them, could form.

“A saber spirit?” Jin Guangyao said weakly, and his knees suddenly didn’t seem strong enough to hold him; he swayed and Nie Mingjue stepped forward quickly, catching him by the shoulders to steady him. “I cultivated a saber spirit?”

“The saber is back in the Unclean Realm,” Nie Mingjue said, not without kindness. “It was only ever waiting for you to pick it up once you developed the spirit, so that you could introduce the two.”

“It hasn’t been – I would have thought it would have been thrown away, or repurposed –”

“It’s a Nie saber, Meng Yao. It won’t obey anyone else ever again, not in this life; it is yours, yours alone. When one day you die, it will be buried with honor in our saber halls, just like all the others.”

The cat looked up at him and purred.

No one owns me, Jin Guangyao thought – the first thing the cat had said to him, and he’d always had a good understanding of what the cat wanted from the very first. No one had owned that wild spirit then, but it had stayed by his side, at first from curiosity and later from habit, and it was his now.

His, and no one else’s.

“Will you come pick it up?” Nie Mingjue asked, hope in his eyes. “Will you come home, if only for a little while?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said. “Yes, I will.”

-

Later, Jin Guangshan told his son to kill Nie Mingjue, that fool who trusted too much and didn’t know when he was being deceived, finding him in his rigidity and righteousness too much of a burden on the power he planned to wield.

Jin Guangyao bowed as deep as he could, a smile on his lips, saying nothing, and the next day, when Jin Guangshan went to the brothel as he always did, drinking tea served by his son the way he always did, he never did figure out why his heart had stopped.

(The saber Jin Guangyao began to wear openly after the funeral – a gift from his sworn brother, he said with a smile, in remembrance of his time at the Nie sect – purred in pure satisfaction.)

[malfoysstilinski]

girl in the mirror pt2 | DRACO MALFOY

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

SUMMARY: part two of girl in the mirror. draco meets his soulmate for the first time. she’s pretty cool for a muggle, but reveals something that has him heading back to hogwarts a little less than happy. 

WARNINGS: none i think?  

A/N: i dont think americans have houses and i assume most of my readers are american,, so in case its confusing obviously theyre like harry potter houses, but jk rowling made it ten times more dramatic and a main part of her story. we dont really care about houses irl. 

Explaining to you that Draco was a wizard was one of the most frustrating and hardest things the blond boy had ever had to do. Only hours later were you starting to reluctantly believe that he was telling the truth. He’d been reluctant to tell you, but since you were his soulmate, you were allowed to know. You had the right. 

The pair of you hadn’t even realised how much time had gone by, sat on your bed as you stare at him unsurely. 

“You look as though you still don’t believe me,” Draco says. “I’ve shown you my wand.”

“Yes, but you’ve not shown me any real magic, have you?” You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms across your chest. 

“I told you, I have to wait a few months ‘till I’m seventeen,” Draco reminds you with a roll of the eyes. “Then I’ll show you something.”

You sigh, not wanting to believe him but having a funny feeling that he was telling the truth. I mean, how else could you explain the fact that he had literally fallen through your mirror? 

“So... We’re soulmates,” you repeat from earlier, before the two of you had fought over whether or not Draco was really a wizard. 

“Yeah,” Draco whispers with a nod. “You know what that is, right?”

“I guess,” you mumble, hugging your arms closer to yourself. “But why is your soulmate not... magic as well?”

Draco shrugs. “Happens sometimes,” he says. “Never ever to a Malfoy...” He looks a little paler as he says so. “But I suppose there’s a first for everything.”

You wonder why it’s a big deal for a member of his family to be put with ‘a Muggle’ as he had called you before. 

“Enough about me,” Draco claps his hands together when he sees the clogs in your brain turning. “Let me find out about you. Please. I’ve been wondering about you since the day I turned thirteen.”

“There’s not much to say,” you sigh. “I guess I just go to school... come home... homework... maybe hang out with friends sometimes.” 

Draco seems interested despite your negative mood, sitting up straighter with an eager look behind his silver eyes and an encouraging small smile on his face.

 He looks odd sat on your bed. He truly does look like some sort of magical being with his pale features and icy hair, and the black suit and turtleneck and polished shoes make him look like he belongs truly where he says he’s from-- a castle or something. Not your bedroom that screams twenty-first century teenage girl.  

“Well, tell me about school,” Draco suggests, glancing you over. “Your tie is red. Is that your house?”

You glance down with a frown, pulling at your tie. “Hm? Oh, no. I’m in Austen. The yellow house.”

Draco frowns. “Is that good or bad?”

You frown back, raising a brow at him. “I mean... we won the most house points last year? Not really a big deal. Oh, and we won house games, like, two years in a row.”

“Not a big deal?” Draco scoffs. “Well done, Y/N! That is a great deal.”

You stare at him like he’s grown two heads. “Thanks? I’m assuming houses are a big deal at your school?”

“Well, of course,” he says rather arrogantly. “I’m a Slytherin. How were you sorted into your house? Do you take personality quizzes in the Muggle world?”

“No,” you giggle slightly and Draco’s heart skips a beat at the sound. “You just get put into whatever house depending on what tutor group you’re in. I switched from green to yellow half way through secondary school because our tutor group got full.”

Draco had never looked so confused. He wonders how Muggles are even motivated to do well when their house points don’t even really mean anything to them. 

He knows a few things about Muggles-- he knows they definitely do not play Qudditch on flying brooms and would much rather play football. He guesses their house games are like that. 

“My tie’s red because I’m a prefect,” you say and reach into your bedside drawer, producing a red badge with ‘prefect’ written in gold on it. 

Draco’s grin brightens, taking it from you as he scans it over. “Oh, they look just like ours!”

You laugh at his eagerness. “That’s good.”

There’s a moment of silence and Draco peers at all of the records placed on your wall. He stands and moved to look at some of the vinyl covers, pointing at your The Neighbourhood one, releasing a huff of air past his nose and glancing over his shoulder back at you. 

“You listen to this one all the time,” Draco states. “I like the one about jumper weather or something.”

You laugh and nod. “Sweater Weather. It’s a good song...” You trail off. “You know, I don’t really understand your music. You only seem to listen to classical.” 

“That’s me,” Draco says, scratching the back of his neck. “Playing the piano. I don’t- I don’t really listen to music much. I never really have to when you listen to it 24/7 anyway.”

You look away with a small blush on your face, bashful. “Sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Draco moves to sit beside you on your bed. “I love it, actually. It makes assemblies less boring and sleeping in a dorm far more bearable.” 

“I’m glad,” you say. “Do you want to listen to something now?”

Draco’s breath hitches because it’s all he’s ever wanted. He nods slowly, scared that you would laugh in his face and take your suggestion back. You grab your phone off of your bedside table and press shuffle on a playlist. Draco can’t believe how weird it is to hear your music playing but not have it muffled in his ears as if he was underwater. 

He watches with parted lips as you slide down so you’re laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Draco looks at you like you put the stars and the moon in the sky. You might be just a Muggle, but you’re magic to him. The true definition of it. 

Slowly, unsure if he’s crossing a line or not, Draco slides down so he’s lying beside you on your bed, on his back like you. You both stare at your ceiling and he notices that you have constellations painted on it. He nearly melts when he sees ‘Draco’, one of the biggest ones. 

He slides his hand down the small gap in between you and hesitantly holds your hand before guiding it up above your heads. It’s not like real stargazing, but Draco likes it. Maybe one day he would be able to sneak you to the Astronomy Tower and show you the same sky he stares at most nights. 

“That’s Draco,” he says. 

You smile as you turn to face him and Draco shuffles to face you too, the only sounds being your small breaths and an Arctic Monkeys song playing behind you. 

“Maybe I always knew?” You suggest. 

“Maybe,” Draco chuckles back and turns to look up at the ceiling. 

You spend a few seconds admiring his side profile; his sharp jaw and the strength of his nose. It’s hard to be scared of the stranger when he’s so beautiful and feels so familiar. Like a puzzle piece you’d been looking for. 

“You’ve only been playing sad songs recently,” Draco says quietly after a little bit. “Is everything okay with you? I was worried... so I asked my friend to teach me how to do the mirror trick.”

You frown a little at the reminder and immediately grow embarrassed. You’re not sure if you should make up a lie or try to change the subject, but Draco seems really concerned and you’d feel awful lying. 

“My... Well, um, my boyfriend broke up with me,” you say awkwardly. 

You feel Draco stiffen beside you. He sits up after a few seconds. He knows it’s not really your fault but he can’t help feeling jealous and angry. He swallows as he stares at a spot on your carpet, unsure how to feel knowing that his soulmate had been with another person. 

He needed a moment to think. He didn’t want to scare you with his harsh words or looks.

“I should get back,” Draco mutters, trying to make his voice sound strong as he stands.

“Draco, I--”

“It’s nearly what? Four in the morning? I should of been going ages ago anyway,” he forces you a grim smile as he heads towards the mirror. “I’ll try and talk to you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You watch with a saddened expression as Draco slips his hand through the glass or your mirror and is suddenly gone. You push yourself up from the mattress and rush over, your fingertips brushing it but coming to a dead end. You blink back tears, wondering if you had just imagined the entire thing. 

You stare into the mirror, unaware that Draco is sadly staring back. 

...

i know it’s a lil dramatic but that’s draco for you and teen love in general tbh 

[dreamifics]

Love and Monsters

Steve Harrington x Reader!Henderson

Oneshot

Y/N Henderson's life was not like any other normal teenager's life, on a very young age her only friends was her brother, Dustin and his friends.. She was not popular in highschool, but she was not a nobody neither.. Y/N was just invisible, lost in the sea of students.. She was almost through highschool though, one day her life was turned upside down, literally and figuratively.. It's been months since the 'thing' happend, but she was still shaken up.

Y/N was laying in bed, My Generation blasting from her stereo.. She was home alone, her mother was out with some friends, her brother was hanging out with 'King Steve'.. Ever since Steve helped them about Dart, she grew closer to Steve but their short lived friendship ended when Dustin left for camp and Steve worked on their family business while she was stuck preparing herself for college.. Y/N misses Steve, his unfunny jokes and oh god--his laugh..

A loud knock startled her, she shot up from her bed, memories of what happend was flashing back to her.. Despite what she tells her friend, she was not okay.. She almost died twice and that opened up trauma's and issues within herself..

Another loud knock startled her, Y/N shakes her head and just ran to the door.. Reaching their front door, her icy hands made contact with the cold steel knob..

It revealed a disheveled Dustin and Steve, she could tell that there were excitement dripping all over them.. Steve was still wearing his sailor work uniform, he looked cute to Y/N but she once threw that thought in the back of her mind..

"What's up?" She questioned the two.

Dustin just smiled and pushed pass her, while Steve was reluctant to go in.. Steve avoided Y/N for almost the whole summer because of the daunting realization that he was catching feelings for her and that scared him.. Y/N was the kind of girl that likes to watch nerdy movies, spend hours playing games with a bunch of kids and save the world two times.. However, Steve was scared, he was still stuck in the unjustified rules of highschool and popularity. . He still wanted to be 'King Steve', but he also wanted to be Y/N's..

"Nice outfit, sailor boy.." Y/N winked and laughs at Steve, he just shakes his head and went inside their house..

Steve made his way to Dustin's room with Y/N right behind him, but before reaching Dustin's room, he passed Y/N's room.. He unconsciously stopped as he looks around, observing every corner of her room.

There were posters plastered all over her walls, books were all around her room in her bed, shelves and even floors.. In the other side she had a small collection of music that made Steve smile.. Because they had the exact same taste, she is the perfect girl.

"If you want to go in, you're free to wander around my room, anytime.."

Steve turned around to face Y/N, he misses her.. How Y/N sarcastic remarks leave her sweet lips or how she rolls her eyes whenever she see something stupid.

"I might just take you up on that.."

"Hm-mm.. You didn't even talk to me when Dustin left, you broke my heart, Steviee.." She jokes, but it sounded a little bitter.

Y/N did get hurt, Steve stopped talking to her when Dustin left, it seems like Steve didn't really like her as much as she thinks he did. Y/N was bored and got stuck just studying and sometimes hanging out with the party.. It was fun but she was looking forward to hanging out with Steve.

"I'm sorry about that, I didn't want to see my old friends hanging out with someone like yo---" Steve stopped his sentence, he didn't mean that.. His mind was a mess, he said those things because he didn't want Y/N finding out his stupid feelings

"Right..Yeah, I get it.."

"Y/N that's not what I me--"

"Cause King Steve shouldn't be hanging out with people like me?Gotcha.."

Steve didn't even had the time to reply, he was met with Y/N's slamming door.. He didn't mean that.. Steve loved hanging out with Y/N, he want to give her something special.. Steve wanted something more from Y/N.. He knew exactly what and he didn't need a reason why but Steve wanted to give Y/N something more..

Y/N was hurt, she didn't know why but Steve words brought devastation to her.. She felt disappointed and upset, Y/N was expecting something special.. She didn't know what or why but she was expecting something more from Steve.

Y/N was dropping off Dustin to the mall where Steve was working, her lips were in a unsual frown.. Y/N wasn't usally like this, she was having a bad week, Steve just hurt her feelings and she was taking it much harder, it was very unsual.. The two Henderson was making their way to the Scoops Ahoy shop, Dustin was rambling about a message he picked up while contacting his girlfriend.

"Are you listening?" Her brother asked as they reach the store.

"Yepp, you should go in now.."

"Y/N, this could be a good thing!"

"I know..If you need my help, you can find me in the food court.."

"Y/N.."

"Yeah, Dus?"

"Are you okay?"

Y/N's mind went blank, she hated lying to her brother but she didn't want to worry anyone.  She laughs and messed Dustin's hair.

"Of course.. Now go, you know where to find me.." With that she left..

Y/N was not okay, the last time she slept was a month ago.. Nightmares kept crawling back to her, she was growing more paranoid by the day.. She was not okay, but she couldn't tell anyone that.. Everyone else is okay, even Wil who had it more rough than her. And to top that up, she was broken hearted by Steve's rejection of their friendship.. Y/N just massaged the bridge of her nose, when will she be fine?

Dustin and Steve was in the corner of the mall with binoculars in their eyes, Steve saw Y/N.. Sitting alone in the corner, a walkman in her ears and a book in hand.. Y/N was mouthing the word as her eyes read every word on that book and Steve couldn't help but feel all giddy and guilty inside.

"You see anything?" Dustin snapped Steve back to their current task.

"Uh, I guess I don't totally know what I'm looking for.'' Steve answered honestly, Y/N distracted him again.

"Evil Russians."

"Yeah, exactly. I don't know what an evil Russian looks like."

"All blond, not smiling."

"Mm-hmm?" Steve's eyes didn't looked for any Russians, his eyes drifted to Y/N spot but she was gone.. Where did she go? He couldn't help but worry, was she talking to someone else?

"Also, look for earpieces, camo, duffel bags, that sort of thing." Dustin added.

"Right, okay, duffel bags." Steve darts his eyes away from Y/N seat but it only fell on a girl he asked out earlier.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me." Steve mutters.

"What?" Dustin questioned.

"Anna Jacobi's talking with that meathead Mark Lewinsky."

"If you're not gonna focus, just gimme the binoculars."

Dustin got annoyed by his distracted partner, he should have brought his sister along.. But he knew that Y/N was not okay, she seemed distant and lost in her own mind.. Always spacing out and Dustin can hear her cries from his room, it killed him to see her loving and hyper sister transform into a walking corpse.

"Aw, Jesus Christ, whatever happened to standards?"

"I mean, Lewinsky never even came off the bench." Steve rambled on, annoying Dustin.

"Dude, you are the worst spy in history, you know that?"

The two fought for the binoculars, but they just looked stupid.. Dustin initially gave up and gave the binoculars to Steve.

"I don't get why you're looking at girls. You have the perfect one in front of you."

"Seriously, if you say Robin again..." Steve closes his eyes waiting for Robin's name to come up but it never did.

"No, Y/N.. My sister.."

Steve's heart clenched at the mention of her name, he wants Y/N too.. What can he do? Y/N hates his ass now, he was a jerk and he didn't deserve Y/N.

"No, man, she's not my type." Steve answered while he diverts his eyes away from Dustin.

"I saw you staring at her closed door for about 5 minutes."

Steve eyes grew wide at the realization that Dustin was watching the whole time.. Dustin just shakes his head, if he was asked he'd say that her sister felt the same way..

"She's not even... in the ballpark of what my type is, all right?"

"What's your type again? Not awesome?"

"Thank you."

"Hm."

"For you information, your sister is too sarcastic, she's too nerdy for me.."

"Also, she's too...boyish.."

Beautiful, that's what he wanted to say..

"Dude, that's my sister you're talking about, and besides she's not like that.. She's nerdy but so what? Y/N's also not boyish, she's just secured with her masculinity.."

Dustin's word echoed throughout Steve's system, he already knew that.. But somehow hearing it from another person's perspective made him like you more.

"Y/N's just not my type.." He lied..

Y/N was everything he ever wanted in a girl.

"Thanks for the clarification, Harrington." A voice surprised the two.

Y/N was standing behind them, her arms crossed..  Steve's eyes widen in surprise, did she hear everything? He didn't mean that, what did he mean?

"I didn't mean t--"

"Dustin, if you told me you'll stalk people in malls, I should've brought you to a psychiatrist.." Y/N ignored Steve and just focused on her brother.. Y/N would be lying if she haven't felt more hurt by the words Steve dropped.. She had been listening since the talk about girls came up, Y/N spotted the two doing eccentric things and she decided to eavesdrop.

"No, it's called spying.." Dustin rolled his eyes at her sister remarks while Steve was still frozen..

"What's the difference?" Y/N asked, her eyes still focused on he brother..

"It's just different, okay? Were looking for the--" Dustin stopped and looks around to see if anybody was near..

"Russians?" Y/N continued in a loud tone.

"Shh!" Both Steve and her brother shushed her. Y/N was surpised, she glares at the two and moved closer to them.

"Fine, can I tag along? I'm bored and it'll be nice to be a national hero."

The two looked at each other, Steve was nervous.. Y/N obviously didn't want him around, but this could be a chance for him to apologize to Y/N.

"Sure, you can help us look for russians with dufflebags and camo." Dustin pulled her sister to his side.

"That's kinda racis--"

"No, it's not!" Dustin cuts her sister off making Y/N laugh..

"Whatever you say Dus.."

And that's how she ended up inside a theater with two kids and two drugged teenagere.. Y/N's breathing was heavy, they were captured by Russians just moments ago.. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins, she thought this town was finally normal again, but turns out she was wrong.. Very very wrong..

They needed to get out of this hellish mall, Y/N need to find out if there's still russians lurking out, looking for them.

"The two of you need to stay here and take care of them." Y/N instructs to her brother, she pointed at a floopy Steve and Robin.

"Wait--Where are you going?!" Dustin stopped her by pulling her arm.

"I'm going to see if those fuckers are still looking for us.."

"No, we'll come with you.."

"Dustin, you need to stay here and keep a low profile.."

"Y/N don't be a hero.."

"Hey, Dipshit!I'm not trying to be a hero, what I'm doing is protecting you guys because our two friends are drugged and beaten while we brought a little kid into our mess!And I will do everything to keep you all safe, even if that means I get hurt or killed!"

Dustin knew that there's no talking Y/N out of this, her sister was right.. Taking a deep breath, he just nods and hugs her sister..

"Just please, stay safe.." Dustin was in the verge of tears but Y/N held him tight in her arms.. Dustin pulled back, Y/N gave her brother a comforting smile, she rubbed his cheeks and pat his head.

"I'll be okay, I'm a Henderson for god's sake.."

Dustin laughs as tears stroll in his face, she kissed his forehead and walked away, trying not to attract attention.. Taking a deep breath she left the theater, she'll do whatever it takes to keep her brother and her friends.. Y/N's mind flew to Steve, she was pissed off but she was not sure anymore.. The way he saved them and got beat up for them, she couldn't find a reason to be mad at him, all she can think about is his childlish look and how hot he is in his sailor uniform. Y/N just shakes those thoughts away and tried to focus on her task..

Russians..

Steve and Robin were throwing up in a seperate cubicles, they were getting the drugs out of their system.. Retching and puking can be heard all through out the theater bathroom, Steve groans and flushes the toilet.

"The ceiling stopped spinning for me. Is it still spinning for you?" Robin's voice can be heard from the other cubicle.

"Holy shit. No. You think we puked it all up?" Steve rested his back to the mini wall inside the cubicle..

"Maybe. Ask me something.."

"Interrogate me." Robin said in a mocking russian accent.

"Okay. Interrogate you. Sure. Um... When was the last time you, uh, peed your pants?"

"Today."

"What?"

"When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw."

"Oh... All right, my turn."

"Okay. Hit me."

"Have you... ever been in love?"

"Yep. Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year." Steve imitates a gunshot.

"Are you still in love with Nancy?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I found someone else, she's a little bit better for me.It's crazy. Ever since Dustin got home, he's been saying, 'You know, you gotta find your Suzie. You gotta find your Suzie.' "

"Wait, who's Suzie?"

"It's some girl from camp, I guess his girlfriend. To be honest with you, I'm not 100% sure she's even real."

" But that's not- that's not really the point. That doesn't matter. The point is, this girl, you know, the one that I like, it's somebody that I... didn't even talk to in school. And I don't even know why."

"Maybe 'cause Tommy H. would've made fun of me or... I wouldn't be... prom king. It's stupid. I mean, Dustin's right, it's all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because, when I think about it, I should've been hanging out with this girl the whole time."

"First of all, she hates me now because of a stupid thing I said but when we hanged out, we were bonding and shit.. She was perfect for me, she's nerdy, hangs out with kids too much.. She likes the same things I like, her brother is my bestfriend.. Sometimes I wonder if she's real, because she's too perfect."

"Wait--You like Y/N?"

"Yeah, ever since last year.. I like her so damn much, I can't even believe that I said to her that I shouldn't be hanging out with someone like her."

"YOU SAID THAT?" Robin's voice boomed out all over the bathroom, Steve just sighs and slids out of the cubicle..

"Unfortunately, yes.."

Steve slid in to Robins cubicle, she was glaring at him.

"If you ask me, Y/N doesn't deserve someone like me.. She--She's too nice to be caught up in my miserable life.. And besides she would never like me.."

"I think you're still high.."

"No, I'm not.."

"Do you remember what I said about Click's class? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?"

"Yeah?"

"It isn't because I had a crush on you. It's because... she wouldn't stop staring at you.."

"Mrs. Click?" Robin chuckles and just shakes her head.

"Y/N Henderson, I wanted her to look at me. But... she couldn't pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair. And I didn't understand, because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor. And you asked dumb questions. And you were a douchebag. And- And you didn't even like her then and... I would go home... and just scream into my pillow."

"But Y/N's a girl.."

"Steve.."

"Oh.."

"Yeah, now listen..Don't give me the 'she doesn't deserve me' and 'she doesn't like me back' crap.. Y/N was inlove with you since highschool, now you will tell her all about your mushy mushy feelings and you'll two will get married, have kids and you'll have me to thank for. "

"But what about you?"

"Please, I moved on.."

"Really?"

"Hell yeah, with my pretty face?I could find someone in a jiffy!"

The two were laughing when Dustin and Ericka burst into the bathroom.. Annoyance and frustration written all over their face..

"Okay.What the hell?!" Dustin asked very annoyed.

"Dude, we're normal again.."

"That's not the problem now, we need to find Y/N and go with the rest of the party."

"Y/N's not with you?"

"Do you see her?" Erica asked with the normal sass in her voice. Robin rolls her eyes at Erica who just glares at her.

"Where did she go?" Steve ignored Erica's sarcastic question

"She said she'll check the perimeter, but she hasn't come back since." Dustin answered, she was worried for her sister.. In their situation, who wouldn't?

"Shit." Steve and Robin both utter at the same time.

Y/N was changed into a much more inauspicious clothes, it was just some pants and a shirt tucked into it.. She fixed her disheveled hair and wiped her sweat.. She needed to blend in, her eyes wander around the mall.. There were Russians walking around, bviously looking for someone and that someone was them.. All the exits are heavily guarded by guards, there's no way out..

Taking a deep breath she walked back to the theater, praying that her brother and friends was safely still there but before she could even reached the theater, a russian man spotted her..

"I got eyes on one of the target!" The russian said into his earpiece, making Y/N run to the higher level of the mall, her heart racing and she was starting to feel tired.

Y/N just ran until she lost the russian, her breathing was getting shorter by the second..  Y/N's leg was starting to hurt but she ignored it and looked down to see if she can spot her brother..

And there they are, getting chased by guards.. Worries pumped into her brain as they run.. She needed to help them, if not they could get killed.

"Hey stupid spies!I'm right up here, morons!" Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs as she waves her hands around..

Steve and Dustin was horrified as they hide into the counters, Y/N was risking her life for theirs..

The guards that was chasing them made eye contact and targeted Y/N but before they could do anything a car honk.. The russians looked at each other, confused and dazed.. Eleven can be seen controlling the car, she throws it at the bad men and all they could hear were groans..

Y/N felt a surge of relief, she made her way to her brother.. Dustin, Robin, Erica and Steve pop out from behind the counter, steam hissing.. Y/N saw her brother and they all rushed up to hug her..

A tight hug welcomed Y/N, but this hug wasn't just from Dustin.. It was also from Robin, Erica and Steve.. Suddenly they all look up to see the rest of the party.. The hug was cut off by Dustin running to hug Mike and Eleven.

"Lucas?" Erica saw her brother and it made Lucas confuse..

"What are you doing here?"

Y/N who was just taking in deep breaths smiled to herself.. They were safe, but she knew this was not over.. Steve stayed in Y/N side, Robin's word replayed in his mind.. This is his chance to say his undying love to Y/N.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm?" Y/N saw Steve besides her, she was growing tired but Y/N needed to keep thriving for everyone.. Y/N saw that Steve was hesitant, he was nervous and it made her felt nervous too.

"I--I uhh.." Steve mumbles, his tongue was backing out.. Y/N had such a powerful effect on him, to the way she says his name, and everytime Y/N calls him, his heart skips a beat.. It sounds corny, but it was true..

"What?Do you need a speak and spell?" Y/N joked, it didn't help a struggling Steve.. He started to grew more anxious, he needed to get this off his chest.. This could be the last time they all see each other alive, there's no telling what could happen to them.

Y/N was just staring at him

"I have something to confess---"

Steve was cut off by El who was in pain and grunting in the floor..  They all ran to her aid and helped her with the pain she was going through.. Steve slightly curses at himself, maybe this was not a great time for a love confession.. He needed to focus on surviving this hellish adventure.. Again 

It finally ended.. Y/N was relieved, it was over.. They were safe, Y/N and Dustin were sitting in the back of an ambulance, a blanket around them as they hug each other..

"If this shit happens again, we're moving.." Y/N jokes.. Dustin chuckled, maybe they should.. However, the adventures were growing more fun and dangerous..

"Nah, we love being heroes.."

Y/N laughs as she held her brother tighter, she fixed his hair and wipe some dirt off his face.. Even if he's old now, he'll always be Y/N's baby brother.. She smiled at the memory of Suzie and Dustin singing in the middle of mayhem and chaos.

"Stooop, I'm all grown up now!" He stood up and made his way to his friends..

"Don't get too far, lover boy!" Y/N shouted causing Dustin's cheek to blush..

Y/N sighs at the sight of her brother walking away from her, this is the last time she'll save the world, she was tired of monsters.. Y/N was just enjoying the cold air of the night when someone cleared their throat.

"Hello to you Harrington.." Y/N smiled at Steve, he was just standing infront of her.. Y/N can't help but feel giddy when Steve's in his sailor outfit.. It saddens her that Steve was still stuck in his highschool mindset..

"I have something to tell you.." Steve mumbles incoherently, but Y/N understood it.. Steve was always nervous when Y/N's around, he remember the first time he saw Y/N..

Steve saw Dustin on the street asking for help, and he didn't believe at him first but he was soon convinced by how Dustin was nervous and scared.. They pulled up at the Henderson's residence, that's where he first saw--no that's not the right word..

That's where he first acknowledged Y/N..

She was sitting on the porch steps on her pajama's, there were dirt on her face and her hairs a mess.. Y/N's face lighten up when he saw Dustin getting out of the car..

"Hey Dus------What is he doing here?" Y/N's face dropped when he saw Steve also getting out of the car.

"He's our back up.." Her brother answered short and continue walking into the entrance of the basement.

"I'm back up..'' Steve said cocky at Y/N, she just scoffs and followed Dustin..

"For a guy with a black eye, you're awfully confident.."

"That's what seeing a pretty girl like you does to me.." Steve didn't know what he ate that time but he had this whole new confidence when he started talking to Y/N.. However, Y/N didn't seem impressed to his corny jokes and pick up lines, she was always scoffing and rolling her eyes..

"Yeah, you said that too when we were inside..That" Y/N's voice pulled him back to the present.. Y/N gestured at the burning mall infront of them.

"Yeah.." Steve cleared his throat, he opens his mouth, but the words won't come out he's chokin', how, everybody's jokin' now, the clocks run out, times up, over, blaow   .

"Are you gonna say something?" Y/N was starting to get nervous, did she do something to make Steve act strange? He was shaking, the sweat on his forehead is flowing like the Niagara Falls.. That's not attractive yet for some reason she found it hot..

"Oh--Yeah--Uhh.." He failed to say words again, why can't he just go straight to the point?

Robin who was with the rest of the party was staring at a stuttering and nervous Steve.. The rest started to notice even Jonathan and Nancy who was in each others arms..

"When is he gonna tell my sister that he likes her?" Dustin ponder as he stares at the two..

"I don't know, he's taking forever just uttering one sentence.." Lucas pitched in making the others laugh..

"I thought Steve was a suave and cool guy?" Mike jokes causing some of them to laugh, some was just quiet.. They were still having a hard time grasping all of this, especially Max..

"He's a nerd just like you guys.." Nancy answered, they all shake their heads as they watch Steve nervously fidgets..

"Alright, I finally had enough.." Robin whispers, the party turned to Robin, carefulky watching to what she had under her sleeves..

"HEY Y/N!" Robin shouts..

Y/N broke her gaze with Steve and brought it to a shouting Robin, not far from them.. Steve just froze to his place, panic started blaring out through his mind..

"WHAT STEVE'S TRYING TO SAY IS HE FREAKING LIKES YOU!" Robin shouted, and it all made them freeze.. Y/N blinked rapidly, did she hear that right? Steve l-likes her? What? When? How? Where?

Steve felt embarrased, he wanted the crawl in a hole and die.. Robin was dead to him, how could she do that? Now Y/N's gonna start to avoid him, she obviously doesn't like her back.

"I-Is that true?" Y/N finally asked the question she was dying to ask, she never really thought about Steve that way.. Fine, she's not gonna lie, there were some thoughts about Steve that kept her up at night..

"I can explain--If you don't feel the same it's totally fi----" Steve panicked and randomly said any excuses he can think off, not giving Y/N a chance to speak..

Y/N rolled her eyes at how Steve was rambling on, she smiled and stands up.. Pulling Steve sailor outfit, she kissed him..

Steve pressed his lips harder on Y/N, he wanted this kiss to happen since he first saw her.. And now it's happening, Y/N puts her arm around Steve's neck.. This was her first kiss and she was glad that it was to Steve.. They both kissed as the burning Star Court crumbles infront of them.  Y/N didn't knew that you can find love and monsters in this terrifying situation..

Dustin groaned at the sight of her sister and bestfriend kissing, he wanted to vomit and scoop his eyes out.. This was not a sight for sore eyes..

"Ugh!I don't want to watch my sister exchange salivas with Harrington!" Dustin sigh under his breath

"Get used to it, you'll be seeing a lot of him.." Robin teased making Dustin die inside.

"Dammit!"

Y/N was just thinking that some people lost someone special, Eleven lost Hopper.. Max lost Billy and the rest will wake up in the morning with terrible memories haunting them everyday, they can no longer feel the assurance that they're safe in the quiet town they grew up to. They knew everything that lies withing the depths of this ground, all the horrible things that Hawkin Labs brought.. Chief Hopper and Billy Hargrove died for them, they were heroes.. And the sad part is, no one will ever know.. Those who deserves to be recognized is no longer here, the heroine act they did save the world yet the world doesn't even know about them.. But Y/N and the rest knows that the sacrifices they made won't go to waste, they'll do everything in their power to keep whatever haunts this eerie town at bay.

I found this highly nice but cringey at the same time so bear with it, I also wanted to update my series about James Potter but I just can't seem to end it ughhhhh..Anyways, I hope you guys like this one..

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Taglist

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[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Did You Mean It?

Pairing: Dad!Din Djnarin x GN foundling! Reader

Rating: G

Word Count:1,449

Summary: Din has been teaching you Mando'a and does not know how to react after you call him buir (father) for the first time.

Request: Heyyy, love your writing! Definitely not enough platonic mando fics out there. But I was just wondering if you were interested in making a tag list, if not that's fine I just don't want to miss anything you write! Also, if your still taking requests I was wondering if you would write a fic around the reader calling Din some form of dad for the first time. By accident or on purpose (like after Din teaches her the word buir) it doesn't matter to me. I'm just curious how Din would react lol!

A/N: Hey hey!! I’m fairly new to tumblr so I’ll do my best to do tag lists in the furure! Just let me know if you wanna join so I can write it down somewhere :)) (That was for the general public I’ll definitely mark your name down) I’ve seemed to have grown a habit for writing in Din’s perspective haha, but yes I do think that no matter how Din first hears the reader call him buir he’d still be like “...me?” I hope what I did was okay and you enjoyed it. And thanks so much for liking what I write!!!

Although you were not raised in Mandalorian culture, Din took it upon himself to teach you Mando’a. He first brought it up some time after his encounter with Bo Katan and the other Mandalorians. When he finally saw others of his kind, albeit reassuring, it reminded him that the effort it took to find them could only mean his people were slowly being wiped out. Din needed to hold onto his deteriorating culture, and hoped that you would take an interest in learning from it as a member of Clan Mudhorn. When he inquired about your interest in learning the language he did so thinking that you would probably be daunted by the challenge. He wouldn’t have been offended if you declined as he didn’t want to force you into something you had no interest in, but much to his surprise you were ecstatic about it!

It warmed Din’s heart to watch you fumble over syllables during your first lessons. He began with simple introduction phrases and vocabulary. Nothing too difficult but sufficient enough to help you progress. You were often praised for your efforts and encouraged to converse with Din for practice, which you did. He often corrected you on grammar mistakes and your pronunciation. One thing you hated was how he wouldn’t remind you of a word you’d forgotten during a conversation. He’d simply ignore your plea to remind him and continue his work, leaving you to try to remember the term by yourself.

After some time, you were capable of holding simple conversations. Nothing too complex, but enough for you to get by if there was ever the need for you to use it. On one occasion, it helped you avoid getting arrested.

Although it was not entirely your fault, it often sounded like it was the way Din told it. The Clan had taken the day off to visit a local market after a successful bounty to stock up on fresh supplies and eat a good meal. Din gave you several credits to spend on whatever you pleased while he went to run his errands. The day was particularly sunny. Shoppers wandered around Din, although he stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the civilians with his beskar. Curious eyes casted towards him but he paid no mind to them as he walked up to a vendor and greeted her with a nod.

“Can I buy a holopad around here?” He inquired, waiting for the vendor to return his change. She paused a moment, credits in separate hands as she thought a moment.

“Not too far off that road,” Din followed her gaze and thanked her, pocketing his change before making his way to the shop she’d pointed out to. In truth, he already had a holopad of his own but wanted to give one to you for your upcoming birthday. He approached the shop, pausing a moment to gaze at the door, before making a move to open it. Wait.

What was that?

Din slowly moved back and surveyed the area. He could have sworn he could have heard something familiar. He strained his ears to listen once more.

“Buir!”

Suddenly his attention was caught by your figure as you desperately ran towards him, almost tripping on your feet with Grogu clinging onto you in your arms. Behind you was a vendor tailing you, anger written over his expression. Din marched forward quickly, pushing you and Grogu behind him when the two of you were close enough and held a hand out as the vendor approached.

“What did you do?” He looked down at you, not waiting for an answer but rather looked at the vendor. He hunched over, hands on his knees while he caught his breath. “Can I help you?”

He inhaled sharply and straightened himself up after gathering his breath, gesturing at you. “Is this yours?”

“Can’t you see the resemblance?” Din’s voice was monotonous despite the sarcastic comment. You made a face at the man from your place behind Din. The man inhaled sharply at your expression, though Din chose to ignore your actions.

“Is there a problem here?” Din inquired, pushing you further behind his back so you wouldn’t upset the man even more.

“I caught them trying to steal some of my produce. I have half the mind to call the sheriff-”

“That’s not true!” You interjected, pushing yourself into view but Din was fast enough to push you back in your place.

“Y/N.” Din warned, “vaabir no ukoror bic. Tonaid was bic?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your stance, raising Grogu higher in your arms. “Grogu.”

“Kaysh hiibir mayen?”

“Nayc, he grabbed some things and I didn’t realize.”

Din understood now that you meant this was just a misunderstanding. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder and turned to the impatient vendor. “My foundling has a habit of grabbing anything he can get a hold of. He’s still a child. You can understand.”

At first the vendor was reluctant to leave, convinced that Din’s little clan members were nothing but no good thieves. He even insisted that Din paid reparations for what Grogu had taken, for he tried to eat some before you took it from his mouth. It took some convincing, and several credits, to make the vendor walk away satisfied.

“Well, that’s that.” Din sighed, shaking his head a little and tucked his hands onto his hips. He turned to the two of you, “C’mon, let’s get something for you two to eat.”

At the local cantina Grogu helped himself to a hearty bowl of soup while you ate your own favorite meal from there. Din simply sat back, checking his credits before placing the payment on the table so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it later. When he was done and his mind left wondering, he thought back to when he first heard you call for him in Mando’a.

Buir…

The term you used was one that a child would call its father. You called him father. He wondered if it came out naturally for you, or if you used it because you had to prove that you and Din had some sort of relation. That must have been the case. You’d only been a member of the clan for almost a year now. Seeing Din as a guardian should be natural, but a parental figure? Din wasn’t so sure. He had grown fond of having you around. As an older child you were a far better conversationalist than Grogu was and many times showed that you trusted Din. But still, Din wasn’t your father. He had to remind himself that sometimes. But still, he couldn’t stop wondering how you saw him as he watched you eat your meal.

“Did you mean it?” Din didn’t know where he found the courage to start speaking, but he didn’t stop himself.

“Hm?” You lifted your head, your dish in your hands as you were about to take a bite.

“You called me… buir.” The word sounded strange to call himself.

Your face lit up when you reminisced the incident. “Oh! I mean, yeah. I knew it was the only way to grab your attention. It was really crowded today.”

Din chuckled, “It worked.”

You couldn’t help but smile before taking another bite into your meal, smiling to yourself at its taste. It’d been awhile since the clan ate at a cantina. It’d been awhile that the kiddos had gone out actually. Why was it that every time they joined Din out into town trouble would occur? Din shook his head lightly, deeming that only he would have ended up with such troublemakers.

“But, it’s not like I don’t see you as one.”

You stared back at him, cocking your head to the side and giving him a small smile. Although you couldn’t see it, Din held a big smile underneath his helmet. For a moment he almost forgot that you couldn’t see his expression and collected himself as you waited for his response.

“I’m really proud of you, Y/N.” He beamed, turning to wipe some smudge off of Grogu’s face. “You’re a great kid.”

You grinned widely and a pleasant moment of silence falls upon you two despite the noisy environment. Din told the two of you to finish soon so that the group would return to the ship before nightfall. During the last moments of supper, you and Din conversed with each other in Mando’a to practice your pronunciation once again. At some moments you grazed through phrases you previously struggled on, though you did not realize it Din certainly did, and it made him even more proud of how you’d grown.

[delirious-donna]

Chasing the Sparks - A Black Clover Story

a/n: inspired by the talents of some amazing BC authors, I decided to force myself out of my comfort zones and create my first story with an OC as a main character.

pairing: Magna Swing and Alina Vaude (my OC)

warnings: none, SFW, canon typical violence

synopsis: Having been scouted by Yami Sukehiro, Captain of the Black Bulls, Magna is invited to officially participate in the Magic Knight trials. Reluctant, given his peasant status and a general disdain for nobles and royals, he decides to give it a shot, thinking that at least he could ruffle some feathers and have some fun.

He didn’t count on locking eyes with a girl that he cannot describe as anything other than ethereally beautiful. She seems shy, almost hiding within the shadows to avoid being looked upon, but Magna sees her, nonetheless. Intrigued by this girl, he finds himself all the more determined to perform well and rightfully earn a spot on a Magic Knight squad.

Meanwhile, the bashful flower is simply trying her damnedest to avoid being spotted by her pompous cousin. Yet whilst she pointedly tries to evade sight, she cannot help but be captivated by the sight of the boy currently engaged in combat. He is everything she has been told to avoid, in both looks and mannerisms but the allure is too strong to be denied.

Can a peasant and a noble overcome a society that would do anything to keep them apart?

~

A mostly canonical depiction of the events within Black Clover with the addition of some OC characters. A story that spans many years and told mostly either from the perspective of Magna or the main OC, Alina. Adventure, romance and exciting new perspectives – do dive in!

Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Taking a Chance

A trail of smoke rose from the end of the lit cigarette, drifting lazily on the whispers of the wind until it was no longer visible to the naked eye. The familiar burning drag of his lungs was a comforting presence as he looked for the source of the chaos.

It was an easy enough task, given the trail of prominent scorch marks and flaming piles of trash that could be followed much like breadcrumbs scattered on a forest floor. Hell, he could even choose to utilise his ability to sense Ki in order to weasel out the delinquent responsible for all this destruction. However, on this occasion, he preferred the old-fashioned method of simply using his eyes.

The tall dark-haired male eased along the road with his hands buried deep in his pockets, he was the epitome of relaxed despite being on a mission to resolve the hell-raising antics of some teenage brat that was clearly in need of a hearty spank on the butt. He had nothing to worry about, he could and did, eat punks like these for breakfast.

He wasn’t entirely sure what had driven him to volunteer for this job. He had been perfectly content to allow another squad or one of his little underlings to tackle this low-ranking mission, but as the details had flowed out from the scroll, his perception had shifted. It sounded all too familiar, a troublesome brat out to cause destruction as a form of entertainment.

Perhaps he simply needs a focus?

Regardless of the reason that brought him here on this chilly starless night, he was intent on wrapping things up as quickly and efficiently as possible. His ride would be back in thirty minutes, so he really had no time to waste on idling within his own thoughts.

As he approached the centre of Sosshi, he noticed the presence of residents peeking out from the tiniest of cracks in their doors. Fearful eyes of the young and old alike appeared to beseech him for help, and in honesty, he found it humbling. Considering he was not native to these lands and was often referred to as merely ‘the foreigner’, it was always refreshing to feel wanted. Would it be different if they didn’t need his help as a Magic Knight? He wouldn’t dwell on it; people would always hold their prejudices and he was long accustomed to the hateful stares and whispered words behind raised hands.

The black cape bearing his squad’s insignia fluttered in the wind, a reminder of the band of misfits he had only recently started to string together. He was not the only one within the Clover Kingdom that thought their self to be an outsider, and he had made it his mission to give these outcasts a place to call home, a family of strays where each held the power to surpass their limits and achieve great things. All they needed was the proper motivation, he might not be the most gentle-natured person, but he prided himself on coaxing out latent potential.

Rounding the corner, the Magic Knight Captain dragged the cigarette from between his lips and let his gaze roam freely around the central square he found himself in. Petty destruction littered every corner, the dregs of charred remains of stall coverings smouldered and he found himself stopping in his tracks at the sight of a truly hideous-looking broom.

Could it even be classed as a magic broom with the alterations that had been made to the poor thing?

It had been changed to appear like a bull skeleton with a grandiose skull mounted at the head. The gleaming white bone curved into impressive horns that appeared sharp enough to successfully gore a person. He couldn’t halt the faint flicker of a smile that ran across his lips as he noted the black sunglasses perched upon the skull, this kid clearly had a sense of humour.

He continued to stare at the monstrous contraption; the saddle along the length of the broom handle with ribs attached, the plume of thick bristles at the end and weirdly, the large purple fluffy balls attached at either side. Questions, he had many of them. This thing made no sense, but it would have to wait for now. He wondered if he would get the chance for a civilised conversation with the brat, he hoped they would as he was genuinely curious as to what lunacy had laced his brain when concocting this crazy hybrid vehicle.

The sound of cackling laughter drew his attention back to the task at hand. He let loose a sigh and turned to locate the source. A figure lurked not far from where he was standing, hunched over something upon the ground and sparks flickering between his cupped palms.

“Hey kid, need a word,” he half yelled at the crouched boy.

He got his first look at the punk that had brought Sosshi to its knees on more occasions than he could count on one hand, enough to have resulted in the village elders calling upon the assistance of the Magic Knights, and he was less than impressed with what he saw.

The boy that came stumbling forward, his grimoire already afloat by his side, could barely be sixteen.

He was short and scrawny in stature but wore a mean expression on what would have been a youthful face had it not been for the snarl. His hair was a mixture of black and silver, cropped close to his head except for the black mohawk that stood up along the centre. A pair of tinted blue sunglasses obscured the true colour of his eyes, but it was hard to miss the flames of mischief that sparked within their depths.

“Who’re you callin’ a kid, pops?” the boy retorted, his fist tightened, and the groan of his leather fingerless gloves filled the dead space in their conversation if you could call it as such.

The Captain’s aura visibly darkened, tendrils of power leaking from his very presence whilst his grimoire flared to life. Hues of majestic purples encased the book, the pressure of his mana enough to make the boy take a faltering step backwards, and his complexion paled in the face of the impressive magic.

“Pops?” he growled the question, daring to take one step forward.

At only twenty-five, to say that he was irritated was an understatement. He was barely holding on to his temper and he had only been in this punk’s presence for less than a minute. Despite it all, something told him to pull back. The boy was surely a delinquent but there was no true malice in his actions, for all intents and purposes he seemed like a kid that was sick of listening to adults telling him what to do, and he could understand that.

“W-who are you, man?”

He only stared at the lad, assessing him before deciding on his answer.

There were several avenues open to him at this moment and honestly, he wasn’t sure what would work out for the best. His menacing glare cut down his figure, taking in the leather jacket and fingerless gloves. Even from this brief encounter, it was obvious that he was lacking in mana, and he wondered whether it would ever increase enough to be considered special within a world of the extraordinary. Would it be cruel to give him hope for more than he could likely attain?

It was obvious that the boy wanted to back up further, but instead of doing so, he grit his teeth and stepped forward. His arm trembled from how tightly his fist was clenched and the fiery orange ripples around his grimoire intensified as if they wished to bolster his confidence. Dust kicked up from the ground as he stood defiantly in the face of a person quite clearly capable of annihilating him with one well-aimed strike with his katana.

He was impressed, there was no other way to describe it. There were not many amongst the highest ranks of Magic Knights that would dare to take a step closer to him, even without his mana flowing around him like a spectral cape. A smirk played across his mouth as a fresh plume of smoke rose into the air. He was going to take a chance on this kid; he could already tell that he would work harder than most to achieve his dreams and he wanted to be a part of wherever his destiny took him.

“Yami,” he drawled, the end of his cigarette illuminated the features of his face that had fallen into darkness, “Yami Sukehiro, Captain of the Black Bulls and your newest nightmare.”

~

Magna was in agony.

Pain tore through every muscle, each ligament and joint, it burned his flesh and forced the oxygen from his lungs. Sweat ran like endless torrents down his face, his hair soaked to the point that he looked like he had just stepped out of a shower. His glasses lay a few feet away, half-buried under the dirt, and he did not recall the moment they had been dislodged from his face.

Yami had been more than true to his word, he was Magna’s personal nightmare. Looking up at the man in question, his neck screaming at the movement needed to give him that sight, he found the male casually puffing on his ever-present cigarette in between chuckles that sounded entirely ominous.

To look at Yami in comparison to Magna, you would be remiss to believe that they had both been engaged in a brawl. The runty-looking boy certainly gave the impression that he had been knocked around, kicked and shoved like an overzealous child might play with a ball – but the elder male? He was pristine, or as pristine as Yami ever was.

The Magic Knight Captain wasn’t even out of breath. With his katana resting atop his shoulder, he cocked his head at the prone Magna as if to say, ready for more? To which the answer would be a resounding, NO!

“Aargh!” the boy roared his fury into the night.

How many nights like this had passed since the Captain of the Black Bulls had made it his personal mission to spar with Magna? It had to be reaching double digits, and yet he didn’t seem to be improving. To say he was frustrated would be a severe understatement. Magna was burning with rage, the flicker of his unwavering fire goading his anger, provoking it further.

“Not bad kid,” Yami rasped, wiping his palms on his pants and turning his back on the younger male that looked ready to bawl his eyes out.

“The hell it was!”

Yami sighed, turning back around to crouch down on his haunches. This part never came easy to him, more accustomed to issuing death threats than words of encouragement, but the boy needed a moment of solace rather than intimidation. He offered a hand which Magna took begrudgingly, pulling his with ease into a seated position so they were more face to face.

He knew how much the kid was pouring into these sparring sessions and despite his refusals, he really was improving. Magna would have to pull something completely spectacular and unexpected out of the bag to land a solid strike upon him but the times he had come close to it, increased with each meeting.

It had been a trade-off. Yami promised not to kill him if Magna swore never to raise hell in Sosshi, or any other village for that matter. The deal hadn’t ended there, and the Captain well remembered the look of shock on the delinquent’s face as he told him that he expected Magna to try out in the next Magic Knight entrance exams.

“Look here,” he gestured to his white tank top.

The left side had the smallest singe mark, it was only noticeable when pointed out but it was there nonetheless. He watched the widening of the boy’s grey eyes, for someone that claimed to be in absolute agony only a moment ago, he sure could move fast as he scrambled closer to look at the burn mark.

A mark that he had caused. Magna Swing, a lowly peasant from the arse end of nowhere had actually sullied a Magic Knight’s clothing. Not any Magic Knight either, a goddamn Captain – an especially terrifying one too.

Tears surged from the backs of his eyes, flooding his lash line and threatened to pour forth at any second as an emotion he was unfamiliar with swept inside. It danced with his fire, a joyous melding that roiled like the bubbles of a hot spring.

Pride.

Throwing an arm over his face so Yami could not see, Magna sobbed. It was raw and so real, the boy that had been destined to amount to nothing more than being a common criminal was going to try out as a Magic Knight.

“Stop yer wailing or I’ll kill ya!” Yami growled, yet there was no threat in his tone.

~

Why had he agreed to this? It had to be a grave mistake to think this would be a good idea. Clearly, he’d been hoodwinked by the notion that he could be more than what society had dictated. Having Captain Yami put even an ounce of his faith into a mere brat from the Forsaken Realm, it served in painting a vivid fantasy of a future Magna had only dared to dream of. As he walked forward into the intimidating Coliseum, trying with all his might not to wobble even though his legs felt like jelly, his facade of rebellious indifference failed to mask his nerves. One look at him was enough to note the bead of sweat that rolled down from his hairline and the strain in his temples. All he could see, no matter which way he turned, was a sea of nobles and even a few royals huddled together. Their chins tilted upwards with that arrogant air that they wore at all times, smug sneers painting their features and open disdain blazing in their eyes. Magna rolled his shoulders, a low growl rumbled within the depths of his chest and an overwhelming sense of injustice served to further warp him into the incarnation of the delinquent he was viewed as. How he hated these ‘people’, these bigots that refused to acknowledge others simply based on where they were born or what family they belonged to. Didn’t they know that a family name did not make a person? They need only to look at their ‘King’ to witness a perfect example of someone born into a status that they had no right to own. The man was an imbecile who valued the appearance of power and control above all else. The Clover Kingdom might have crumbled by this point had it not been for the Wizard King that ruled alongside the idiot in a crown. Now, he was a man that had earned the respect given to him.

His thoughts continued to swirl as he waited for his turn to approach the booth ahead, he felt entirely out of his depths and yet he was determined to at least ruffle some feathers whilst he was here. The idea of wiping the smirking smiles from a few of the nobility present was tantalising, his inner flame sparked with mischief and his grimoire felt hot in his hands. “Magna Swing from Rayaka,” he declared loudly. The mage seated in the window slid his eyes up in apparent boredom. There was certainly no enthusiastic welcome as he placed a hand upon Magna’s grimoire, mana enveloped the book for a second before withdrawing, but at least there had been no scorn either. “Number 86, next!” Magna made to move aside, confused as he had never bothered to learn how this process worked, considering that he would never find himself in this position. Yami had told him very little about the events ahead of him, every time Magna gathered the courage to question the hulking and frankly, intimidating male, he had waived him off with a dismissive hand. “You’ll see on the day,” he had said time and again.

He forced his legs forward and entered what he assumed to be the main arena, had his nerves not been reaching fever pitch he might have been vaguely impressed with the sight. The circular building was regal in appearance, and the tall columns that braced the upper level were intricate in design, but he could not appreciate any of it, not when two birds swooped in endless circles around his head.

“Shoo! Get outta here!”

It was no use, the chasing continued until they seemingly ran out of puff. The two swallow-like birds chose to perch on either shoulder, roosting rather cutely into their chests, content in trusting Magna with their safety. He was amazed as well as confused, that was until he noticed the other birds that darted here and there. It seemed that some were not as friendly as the two that adopted him; beaks that nipped at people that tried to bat them away, sharp little talons tearing into the skin and leaving behind nasty-looking scratch marks.

Oblivious to the reasoning behind the presence of these birds, he turned his focus to the balcony above. The decadent archways were empty, but he could spy chairs lined along the edge, and he wondered who the judges for this exam would be. Magna wondered if there were perhaps a committee that oversaw these matters, but his wondering was brought to a swift halt when he heard the snide voices from a little way off.

“I don’t know why they continue to allow such riffraff to participate in the exams. There is simply no way that a peasant could show more potential than any of the royals or nobles present.”

His head snapped to the source of the voices and found three boys of a similar age to himself deep in conversation. The one that had spoken let his eyes trail towards Magna, they widened slightly as he noticed he had been overheard but instead of looking contrite, a wide grin spread out.

“Look boys, seem one of the trash was listening in,” the boy teased.

Magna had yet to realise that this was not simply a noble that was taunting him, but a royal. The boy swept aside his silver hair, which should have been the biggest hint to his identity, yet it flew entirely over his head, too enraged by the barbs thrown so casually at him.

He had half a mind to blast this pig-headed snob into the dirt and his inner flame surely agreed with how it twisted and writhed for release. Only a few months ago and he would have acted upon those reckless impulses, but now he had the image of an enraged Yami Sukehiro emblazoned into the back of his skull. Fear for his own life kept him rooted to the spot though his entire body was tightly coiled and ready to strike in an instant. He would not hesitate to defend himself, but he would not be the first to lash out either.

It looked as if the boy was going to continue his taunting, even taking a step closer to Magna’s position but at that moment, a silence fell over the masses and every head snapped towards the balcony as shadowy figures emerged from the dark recesses.

The Magic Knight Captains made their way to the edge, some strolling with no care in the world whilst others strutted like pompous peacocks, parading their superior mana to the hopeful applicants below. Magna was late to give his attention to the Captains, wishing to ensure the silver-haired toff did not use the moment of distraction to launch a sneak attack. However, the royal in question had been pointedly ignoring his presence since the Captains appeared.

At long last, he gazed upwards and immediately found the figure of Yami. The man in question leant heavily against the column beside him, puffing on his ever-present cigarette and appearing extremely bored by the proceedings. A young-looking male stood further back from Yami but wore the same Black Bulls cape, he wasn’t sure if it was the same boy that Yami often referred to as his ‘ride’. Magna had met him only enough to raise a hand in greeting but the chestnut-haired boy had always seemed friendly and genuine on the times he had arrived to retrieve the Captain and they had still been in full flow of a sparring match.

Magna surveyed the rest of the assembled Captains, some he recognised for their various services to the Kingdom but there were a few that did not even know the names of. The Captain in the centre took a further step forward, gasps of admiration floated to Magna’s ears, and he was inclined to agree with them. William Vangeance of the Golden Dawn was an impressive sight, his gilded helmet caught a glint of the overhead sun and only served to deepen the mystery behind the mask.

“Welcome to the Magic Knights Entrance Examinations, I am Captain William Vangeance…” his voice trailed off as movement pulled Magna’s focus away from the opening ceremony. He followed the slow movements of a figure to his right, turning to keep it in sight and daring to press a little closer to determine what he was observing.

There, half-hidden in the shadows of the pillars stood a girl.

This was no ordinary girl – heavens no. She looked panicked from what little he could determine from her face. Her gaze was trained upon the balcony, but he sensed that it was not fixed upon the man addressing the masses, she seemed to be searching for another, but he had no idea who would cause her such distress.

She moved again, flitting to the next column and this time he could see more of her face. Magna felt his cheeks grow hot, she was pretty – no – that word did not serve her any justice, but he was unable to conjure a word befitting what he felt.

Her hair was the colour of especially milky coffee and the few strands that fell around her round face shimmered with golden highlights when they caught the light. It was worn swept into a messy-looking side ponytail as if her fingers either often fiddled with it or she had not long hastily scraped it together. Magna could not discern the colour of her eyes, too far back in the darkness to allow him the sight and he took another half step forward.

Like a skittish colt, she was on the move once more, forcing the boy to swing around to follow her trajectory. The skirts of her lavender dress fluttered around her legs as she moved but not a sound was made upon the stone floor. A part of him wanted to approach, to ensure that she was okay yet as he swallowed, resolving to keep moving this time, loud cheering ripped through the mist of his concentration.

He looked up to find all the Captains taking their seats as the throng of applicants began to herd into separate areas. Magna cursed under his breath. He had become so distracted by a girl – damn, the girl – he looked for her but found the space she had last occupied to be empty. He had missed the entire explanation as to what was to come, and he could kick himself for his foolishness. Glancing towards Yami as he felt the piercing stare on the back of his neck, he bowed his gaze as he looked toward the man that had dared to take a shot on him.

Magna wasn’t about to let him down, and if he were to soul search just a little deeper, he might have recognised the desire to perform well in order to impress a certain other person that might be watching.

Let’s tear this place up!

~

Alina could barely contain her heart within her chest, it beat to a thunderous rhythm born of sheer panic and anxiety. It was as if all her nightmares were coming together to make this the worst day of her life.

She still remembered the casual, almost off-the-cuff manner in which her father had announced that Langris would be in attendance for today’s examination.

Why him of all people? Sure, he was climbing the ranks within the Golden Dawn with gusto, much to the delight of his parents, but did he have to bear witness to her own attempt to gain entrance into a Magic Knight squad? It wasn’t as if she wanted to join the Golden Dawn, the pressure would be too great and anyway, she would never be chosen by the number one ranking squad.

Her father had been oblivious to his daughter’s plight, not even looking up from the text he had been reading at the breakfast table. She wondered if he even noticed when she flew from the table, ascending the stairs two at a time until she had hurtled into her bedroom in a breathless mess.

Would Finral be there also?

She had gnawed at her fingernails as that worry bloomed in her chest, knowing all too well of the tensions between the brothers. It pained her how Finral had been so casually swept aside as if he had never even existed within this family but at only fifteen, what could she even dream to do about it?

Alina was certainly far luckier than her cousins; as the younger brother in the Vaude house, her father was not under any pressure to ensure a suitable heir was to take over as the head of the family. It was probably for the best given how scatter-brained her dear dad was, but she had witnessed the pressure and often cruelty that was aimed towards Finral and Langris from the safety of the sidelines.

Her focus renewed on the situation at hand, there was no point in dwelling on the events of the past when she was currently doing her damnedest to remain undetected by Langris. Alina could see him searching for her, aquamarine eyes that blazed in irritation as she continued to evade his sight.

Placing a hand on her chest, she tried valiantly to calm her breathing as the other hand came up to twirl a strand of hair between her fingers. She would only be able to keep this up until it was her turn to perform the first task that was asked of them. At that point, the game would be over but engaging in this meaningless battle gave her a sense of confidence over her older cousin. As spatial magic users, the three Vaude children had played endless hours of hide and seek and there was no surprise as to who the reigning champion of the game was – the very man she was managing to outmanoeuvre at this moment.

The cheering subsided as Captain Vangeance and the other Captains took their seats. She watched almost lazily as groups formed, nobles choosing to turn their backs on the few commoners and even fewer considered peasants that lingered in the open space. Her eye was caught by a prominent streak of silver hair, and she couldn’t catch the squeak of surprise before it passed through her lips.

Her steps took her as far as she could manage, away from the royal that was well known for his merciless cruelty. She prayed for anyone that would end up opposing him in these trials, or indeed anyone that ended up in the same squad.

It was time that she make her presence known.

The sight of magic brooms descending from the skies signalled the start of the first test. Alina smoothed down her lavender skirts and took a terrifying step into the circle of light. A few people cast their gazes towards her, curious as to who the newcomer was as they had not been aware of her presence until this point. She could feel her cheeks heating from the unwanted attention, but she forced her head upward, lifting her gaze to meet those icy eyes and the furrowed brow that spoke volumes of his displeasure. Every inch of her diminutive stature trembled like the last leaf on an autumn tree, but her eyes remained determined.

She was entirely unaware of the extra set of eyes that watched her closely, her attention far too invested in not looking a fool in front of her two cousins as she had indeed noted the warm smile of Finral from the balcony. His hand lifted shyly in greeting, fingers waggling as he used to do when she was much younger and for a moment she wanted to cry. It had been a long time since she had last seen Finral, and it was a relief to see that he appeared happy and healthy.

Her observer made no attempt to conceal his stare, often turning his head to admire whatever she was currently tasked with doing. She certainly sensed that she was being watched but of course she was, this was an exam after all, and every Captain was hungrily observing the participants in the hopes of snapping up this year’s cream of the crop.

The time for the dreaded final round approached, and lead was quick to fill her stomach as she leant against the nearest pillar. Fighting was not her forte, in a similar vein to her eldest cousin, Alina preferred to be strategic with her magical abilities. Spatial magic was rare and highly valued, she knew that unless she made a complete pig’s ear of the situation that she would likely get at least one offer of placement. It didn’t make the thought any less grim as she wiped her sweaty palms on her bare thighs, bending at the waist to wipe away the dust that had kicked up on her legs.

Alina’s turn was not for some time and although it might have been wise for her to dutifully pay attention to the matches before her own, it was hard to concentrate when her mind wandered so freely. The daughter of two equally scatter-brained parents, it would have been a great shock if she had not picked up at least some of their traits and a vivid imagination was certainly something she owned.

She quickly became lost in a fantasy where she was welcomed into a squad that felt like a family, with nothing but warm smiles and encouraging words. The squad itself did not appear to be any that she recognised as actually existing, born from her mind alone, but it was true to say that this was what she wished for the most.

A warm tingle brushed against the back of her hand, Alina frowned and cast her eyes down to find the hairs raised but there was nothing obvious to have caused the warmth. The sensation continued to caress against her skin, a light dance of almost intrigue and wonder. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared and left her missing the mysterious presence.

Bursts of blazing heat enveloped her surroundings; Alina squealed and took a further step back into the shadows before turning to stare at the source of the heat. A boy stood with a fireball floating atop his open palm, his fingers wiggled almost as if he caressed the burning orb and a wicked smile blazed across his lightly tanned face.

He was the epitome of what she had been warned against all her life; the leather jacket, fingerless gloves and chain that wrapped around the side of his right hip screamed bad boy. A rebellious-looking youth that would likely cause her nothing but trouble and yet, she could not deny that he was intriguing. The mixture of black and silver hair forced her head to cock to the side and watching him fight was absolutely mesmerising.

His flame magic was impressive, the heat of the fireballs that he hurled like baseballs was searing even at this distance, but it was the speed that captivated her the most. Alina could barely tear her eyes away from the spectacle, his opponent was struggling to strike back, the vines of his plant magic being burned away as quickly as he could manifest them. A glint of mischief reflected from the blue-tinted glasses that served to obscure his eyes, he was boxing his opponent in and cutting off each attempt at retaliation at an alarming rate.

It was over in a flash; the intriguing boy was the well-deserved victor in the bout. He wore an expression of pride, and it was refreshing to note that there was no boastful edge to the emotion. Alina noted how his gaze flickered to the balcony along with the slight incline of his head. She mused as to who he could be acknowledging, her own eyes trailing upwards and passing over each of the Captains in turn. When she turned back, eyes of swirling mercury met her own and the warmth returned to the back of her hand.

He clutched his glasses in his fist as the other hand wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. His expression was that of hesitant curiosity, the pair continued to stare at one another for what felt like an eternity but was in fact barely a few seconds.

A lazy smile slid across his lips, drawing an almost silent gasp from her parted lips. All she could think of at that moment was how cute he looked, his brow quirked slightly and radiating energy she was entirely unfamiliar with. The warmth spread to her arm, and he took a step towards where she stood but before he could approach further, a bolt of lightning speared the ground behind him and sent everyone scattering for safety.

Alina retreated, panting quickly as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Two fingers rose to her left, the only part of her that did not shake with trepidation, ready to create a portal to safety should it be needed as she assessed the situation. She had been ripped away from the approaching boy, who had been sent tumbling to the ground and he rounded on the arena with anger tightening his features.

The next round was about to begin and the crazed-looking blonde kid that sent the lightning bolt was clearly out for blood.

[traincat]

I’ve been trying to piece together a few things from your Twitter and Tumblr posts alike and still can’t make heads or tales of things, so would you mind helping out a FF & spideytorch noob? 1) what is currently happening with Johnny in the comics? (I’ve fallen head over heels for this guy, largely all your doing) 2) when’s the last time he and Peter have interacted, canon wise? (And do you think upcoming interactions are likely?) 3) your thoughts on if they’ll have him come out in the near future? (has that ‘biggest change to the fantastic four’ teaser come to pass yet?) Love all your content, thank you!

I'd say no problem but then I started thinking about this current run again and got a headache. But yes, I can do that to save you from reading it, because it is very largely not good.

So I don't think it's unfair to just flat out say the current Fantastic Four run is not very good, largely due to writer Dan Slott's efforts. Slott was previously on Amazing Spider-Man for 10 years, to mixed opinions, but a large portion of Spider-Man fandom, myself included, blames him near singlehandedly for the decline in quality of Spider-Man books over those ten years. I will say, in the interest of fairness, that Slott as a writer has an incredible fondness for the Spider-Man/Human Torch relationship, and that a lot of the recent teamups and interactions between them have been written or co-written by him. So it's all not all negative here. But in general, I personally find Slott's more recent comics (the last seven-ish years especially) to be badly plotted out, messily characterized disasters that feature characters written with all the emotion of a cardboard cutout. That's me putting it nicely.

To explain this fully, you have to understand the position Fantastic Four comics were in from the years 2015 through 2018, both in the fictional 616 universe and in the real publishing world. Following the 2015 Secret Wars event (great if you want some Johnny angst in the background of your plot), the Fantastic Four were disbanded -- Reed, Sue, and their many biological and found family children were presumed dead but in reality were remaking the multiverse, unable, for a reason that was never clearly defined, to reach home. Ben and Johnny were left on Earth. They had an unspecified falling out, likely due to Reed and Sue's absence, and went their separate ways -- Ben joined the Guardians of the Galaxy and went to space. Johnny was featured on both Inhumans and Avengers books. What's notable about this period is that it's the first time since 1961 that there was no Fantastic Four book being published by Marvel. Now the real world reason behind this is both complicated and extremely petty: Marvel really wanted the Fantastic Four film rights. Marvel denied this explanation at the time, stating that the reason was sales motivated, but it was a thoroughly flimsy excuse and Jonathan Hickman, writer of 2015's Secret Wars and overseer of the current X-Men plot, gave an interview saying the decision was film rights motivated. This decision kept the Fantastic Four books off the shelves for three years, up until the Disney-Fox merger, which secured the X-Men and Fantastic Four rights for Disney's Marvel Studios. Marvel then announced that the Fantastic Four book would be returning. So that's a little bit of background as to the precarious place the Fantastic Four currently occupy in the Marvel universe -- it's worth noting that this year is their 60th anniversary, and Marvel has done very little for it. Compare this to the X-Men, whose film rights Marvel also obtained during the Disney-Fox merger, and whose books are currently dominating the publishing lineup. The Fantastic Four definitely occupy an unpopular position, one Marvel themselves is at least partially responsible for forcing them into.

But to move back into the actual content of the book -- the readjustment period Slott wrote reintroducing the Fantastic Four into the Marvel universe can be described as clumsy, at best. It's never fully explained why Reed, Sue, and the kids couldn't return to Earth, something that was explored in Chip Zdarsky's 2017 Marvel Two-in-One, which featured Ben, Johnny, and Doom on a multiversal roadtrip to try and find their family and which I on the whole recommend, despite it having an awkward ending due to being cut short by Slott's announced Fantastic Four main title.

(Marvel Two-in-One 2017 #4)

Instead, the Fantastic Four return to a Marvel universe a little different than how they left it, with the Baxter Building -- formerly the offices of Parker Industries, the company Doc Ock started in Peter's body during Superior Spider-Man that Peter inherited after his defeat and then lost spectacularly when he trashed his own company to fight nazis (good for him) -- occupied by a different fantastic foursome in a plot that goes nowhere and does nothing. This is somewhat emblematic of the early days of Slott's run -- he introduces ideas that fail to go anywhere, including Johnny's rekindled relationship with his other best friend and former college roommate, Wyatt Wingfoot, who he was seen being very cuddly with in the early issues.

(FF 2018 #1) A small group of Fantastic Four fans have argued for a while that if Marvel was to have Johnny come out, a relationship with Wyatt would feel very natural -- they're already close, with Wyatt being an important Fantastic Four supporting character since the '60s. I have some further analysis here on the conspiracy theory that Johnny and Wyatt were supposed to be in relationship at the beginning of this run but that that plot was, for whatever reason, nixed. I don't know that I entirely believe this theory, for the record -- but I do think the pieces line up remarkably well.

Anyway, that didn't/hasn't yet happened, obviously. Slott instead for the most part put Johnny on the back burner for the beginning of his run, up until the Spyre arc, which I have reason to believe is the main story he pitched that he credits with securing him the Fantastic Four title. The Spyre arc suggests that the Fantastic Four's failed space exploration during which they got their powers wasn't just to beat the commies to the moon, as Lee and Kirby envisioned (simpler days), but to reach a specific planet outside of our galaxy. When the team sets out to conquer this mission, they arrive at the planet, but are quickly captured. The planet, they find out, operates like a soulmate AU -- everyone has a fated person that they are matched to via a gold armband. Reed and Sue are soulmates (and Ben is confined to an underground subterranean with the other monsters, because this is a Fantastic Four comic) while it's discovered! Shocker! That Johnny is actually the soulmate of the one the planet's inhabitants, a winged woman named Sky, with the suggestion that this is both why Johnny's previous relationships have never worked and why he loves space exploration -- he was just trying to get to his Soulmate TM.

(FF 2018 #15) "What's going on here? Where are my clothes?" As you can see, this didn't start off super great, with Johnny being separated from his family, stripped naked, and put in Sky's bed with a soulmate armband slapped on him. Did I mention they're only removable if your soulmate takes it off for you? And that Sky has consistently refused despite Johnny asking her to? Yeah. It's bad. (I think it's important to note Johnny's long history as a victim of assault plays into this narrative, whether or not Slott is personally holding that in mind while writing, which I don't believe he is. cw in the linked post for discussions of sexual assault.) There's an additional issue here in that Slott has a history of problematic writing regarding women of color, featuring characters he's created to act as love interests being oversexualized, infantilized, villainized, or some mix of all three, with two examples of this phenomena being Cindy Moon and Lian Tang, both of whom he introduced in quick succession in Amazing Spider-Man. Slott certainly didn't have to write Sky as manipulative or controlling towards Johnny, but that's what he chose to do, and that factors into the bigger picture of unfortunate themes in his writing.

Sky returns to Earth with the Fantastic Four despite Johnny appearing unenthused about the idea and initially generally reluctant to interact with her. Apparently they went on a few dates after this and kind of made up. I don't know because I stopped reading for about ten issues in there but I feel confident I missed very little. It's hard to talk about the Sky plot without referencing Johnny's previous interactions with a character named Lyja, a Skrull whose relationship to Johnny I have a long breakdown of here. It's doubly hard, because Lyja actually showed back up in Fantastic Four during this plot. Lyja's modus operandi has remained consistent throughout almost all of her appearances, which I guess makes sense, because she literally has no storylines that do not involve her being obsessed with Johnny, and this recent story isn't any different: Lyja shows up, Lyja disguises herself as another woman in Johnny's life to get close to Johnny, Lyja gets caught and claims it was all fine because she did it for love. This time she disguised herself as Sky.

(FF 2018 #32) Not gonna lie, kind of proud of him for this one. That's one of my problems with Slott -- very occasionally, he busts out good moments, only to undermine them with the rest of his narrative.

In the same issue, Alicia Masters, the first woman Lyja impersonated in order to get close to Johnny, uses her supervillain stepfather's radioactive clay to control Lyja's mind and send her back to space, and I do think she utilized girl power when she did this. Johnny, left reeling after Lyja's latest attempts to trick him into a relationship, ends this issue by sleeping with Victorious, Dr. Doom's right hand woman.

I know she pegged him. I know it. This scene was a little controversial in Johnny fandom, because a lot of people viewed it as Johnny cheating on Sky and thought that that action was out of character for Johnny. I'm personally of a little different opinion, which is that regardless of whether or not you view Johnny and Sky in a committed enough relationship that Johnny's tryst would count as infidelity when all Johnny and Sky are bound by are magic plot soulmate bracelets, I think Lyja's involvement changes things significantly when it comes to Johnny's characterization. All of Johnny's "playboy" periods, if we can call them that, coincide directly with Lyja having been in and then left his life again, which I think makes a certain amount of sense -- it's Johnny trying to wrest control back after a situation where he had none. None of this is explicitly canon, I have to note, but sometimes in comics you have to do the work yourself. So I think this is a case of something being accidentally extremely in character that Slott accidentally stumbled into because he had these love triangles in mind, not because he put a lot of thought into it.

Speaking of love triangles! Johnny sleeping with Victorious gets more complicated when Dr. Doom announces his intent to marry Victorious -- not because he has any romantic interest in her (this engagement caused a lot of uproar in Fantastic Four because Victorious had been previously referred to as being like Doom's adopted daughter) but in order to install her as Latverian regent in his absence. I'm not going to lie, I love a political wedding. Victorious, for some reason, thinks Doom will be deeply upset that she slept with some closeted blond twink and the member of the Fantastic Four he views least as an enemy and more as an annoyance. Johnny, who Sky is currently not talking to because she "felt" him sleeping with Victorious through their magic plot soulmate bracelets, also feels nervous about Doom finding out about this, which I guess is slightly more valid. Anyway, for some completely ridiculous reason, Victorious decides the best time to tell Doom about this little indiscretion is when they're standing at the altar, which coincidentally the Fantastic Four are also standing at, because Doom asked Reed to be his best man in a not at all homoerotic little setup involving midnight swordfighting and Reed slipping Doom's emerald ring onto his own finger. Sorry to sidetrack into DoomReed territory here but it's just like. It's just a lot.

(FF 2018 #33) Also, Ben walked the bride down the aisle. :,) Look at his gigantic hand.

Anyway then Doom decides he's going to kill everyone in a completely reasonable and not at all overblown reaction to Johnny and Zora having what was most likely both disappointing for Zora and weepy for Johnny sex. And that brings us up to where Fantastic Four comics left us yesterday -- in answer to your "big change" question, that's most likely coming up in the next issue, so it hasn't come to pass yet.

Having gotten all that out of the way -- the last time Johnny and Peter interacted canon-wise was in the recent Empyre Fallout Fantastic Four, at the end of the Empyre event:

It was cute! Slott does right good interactions between them. This is possibly the Stockholm Syndrome talking. I don't know if more interactions are likely imminent -- the Empyre event was fairly recent. On the other hand, Slott does like writing interactions between them. So I'd give it about a 50/50 shot. I was skimming the letter page in the latest issue and someone wrote in asking if Peter was likely to appear in the pages of Fantastic Four again any time soon, so there is definitely a demand.

As for Johnny coming out -- I don't know. It's not a call I feel comfortable making at this moment, which I guess means I wouldn't bet money on it. I'd like to say yes, especially because I think Slott set up, whether that was his intention or more likely not, several good places in his run where Johnny could have come out. The beginning, when he's implied to be living with Wyatt again and where he and Wyatt are paralleled against Ben and Alicia. Ben's bachelor party, where Johnny laments not finding the right person -- specifically person and not woman -- and where Ben tells him to "be brave, Johnny Storm." And the soulmate planet plot, where I think could have had a very different and much better ending if Johnny had told Sky that she couldn't be his romantic soulmate, because he knows he wants to be with a man. But those are just places that I think would have made good opportunities for a coming out story. Instead, Johnny's been involved (dubiously) with three different women over the space of the last 10 issues, which is more heterosexuality at one time than he's been confronted with in the last 60 years. So my thoughts are still that it's going to happen eventually, but quite possibly not anytime soon.

Hope that helps! And that my incredibly long answer about what's currently going on with Johnny in comics sheds some light on things!

[kylorengarbagedump]

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 1

Read on AO3. Part 2 here.

Summary: You’re a Lieutenant, stationed on Orinda. You’re content with your trustworthy crew, but issues with a certain ship (spoiler alert: it’s the TIE silencer) end up trapping you on the Steadfast, instead. Your relationship with Kylo Ren isn't how you left it. How many more messes can you stand to clean?

(Yes, this is the sequel to Fix Your Attitude.)

Words: 4500

Warnings: None. Yet.

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: Umm... hi!! I don't have much to say other than I'm very excited to post this, and I really hope you enjoy it! I love you all so much. I'm genuinely lucky and grateful to have you in my life.

You weren’t ready.

Since the alert had come in that the First Order would be sending a transporter to Orinda, your hands had been jittery. There’d been no indication, no hint as to what your team should be expecting when they arrived. In the four months since you’d arrived at the fuel post, you hadn’t received a single visitor from the brass.

“Hey, Chief.” 

The voice called you as you were chest-deep in a pile of fuel-cells. Grunting, you wrenched yourself free, patting the reactor dust from your uniform. Certainly there was some in your hair, too. 

“Hey, hi Tonis, what’s up?” You tried to restrain your anxiety to the perimeter of your mind. “Can, uh, can I help you?”

Tonis, your third engineer, sighed, wrangling his hands together as he looked to the ground. “Do you know what’s going on with this transport unit arriving?” His thin lips twisted in a frown. “They’re saying that they might be shutting the post down.”

“Oh, jeez.” You shook your head, grabbing a rag from the terminal and wiping your hands. “No, no. Nothing like that. I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he said. “Good. I really, really, really don’t want to be moved. Again.”

Grimacing, you looked at your reflection in the terminal facade. “I know.”

“Orinda’s really great,” he said. “All the different ships we get to work on. And it’s so quiet. And our team is so great--”

“I know.” You mussed your hair, as if shoving dirty fingers through it would improve its appearance. Incredibly, it did not. “They’re only sending three people. I’m sure it can’t be that big of a deal.”

“But that’s the thing!” he said. “Don’t you think that a transport unit with only a few passengers must be here for something super-official?”

Your chest seized, and you cleared your throat, turning back to him. 

“Maybe.” You ignored the hot burn of your cheeks. “Guess we’ll see when they get here.” 

The terminal blipped, a familiar pattern that indicated the atmosphere had been breached. It’d been awhile since you’d felt like you had the power to summon anything of importance with a single thought. The reminder tweaked your heart. 

“Or… I guess we’ll see now.”

Tonis squealed, running through the post. “Hey! Hey guys! The First Order’s here! The First Order’s arrived!”

Sighing, you looked into the terminal again. Four months hadn’t changed your appearance too much. Not that it mattered. Or it might. But you wouldn’t worry about it. Only a little.

You steeled your nerves and walked out of the hangar into the dusty outcropping of the fuel outpost. Flat land stretched for miles in diameter from your station, a rolling pitch of blue mountains in the far distance, the wind whipping across the plains, rustling the dry grass. Shielding your eyes with a hand, you gazed up and spotted the transporter, a blooming black spot in the cloudless sky, quickening the pace of your pulse with every passing second.

It was just a transporter. He wouldn’t be on it. There was nothing to freak out about.

Tonis had gathered the rest of your massive crew--all three of them, him included--and they surrounded you, faces taut with anticipation.

“What do you think it is, Chief?” That was Mirna, your second engineer, a short, wide-set thing, with buzzed hair and a gruff voice. “You think they’re shutting the place down?”

“She already said she doesn’t think it’s that,” Tonis replied.

“Well, yeah, but then, why are they just sending three people?” said Lin, your mechanic. 

“There’s plenty of reasons they could send three people,” Tonis said, as if he hadn’t just been agonizing over that very issue just minutes ago.

Mirna snorted. “Like what?”

“An announcement,” Lin said. “Maybe they’re canvassing all First Order planets.”

You nodded, chewing your cheek. “Sure. That could be it.”

“Or maybe it’s a survey!” Tonis was almost wiggling with excitement like the little nerd he was. “Does anyone else love filling out those weird surveys?”

“No, nerfherder,” Mirna teased, grinning. “Just you.”

“Could be an escort.” Lin shrugged. “Maybe they’re here to pick someone up.”

Mirna laughed. “Oh, come on,” she said. “Who in the stars could they have an interest in on this planet?”

Blood blazed your face. “It’s a mystery.”

You hadn’t told anyone since arriving what had brought you there or why you’d come. You hadn’t told them when you’d first landed that you still had the cum of the Commander of the First Order leaking out of your cunt. You hadn’t told them that just hours before, he’d held you in his arms, brought you into his mind, and shown you--with a breathless, crushing tangibility--how utterly and completely he loved you.

You hadn’t told them, either, that in the days, weeks, months following your arrival, you hadn’t heard from him at all. 

With a dying wail, the transporter hovered and landed, spitting up a ring of dust that smacked you in the face. You sputtered, wiping your eyes, the rest of your crew apparently victims too. Frowning, you crossed your arms, brow cocked as the ramp whined and descended. Something akin to fear needled your heart in the empty space between the sound of footsteps and the emergence of two Stormtroopers stomping to the ground. 

Something that was definitely fear gripped it as those two troopers were followed by a man you’d hoped to never, ever see again.

“Engineer.” General Hux had somehow lost none of his smarmy, pink-cheeked smugness--his refusal to say your name was out of petty spite at this point. And his face was just as punchable as you remembered. “I see you are, for once, prepared for our arrival.”

“What sort of facility chief would I be if I didn’t stay on top of our arrival queues?” You hid your hands behind your back to hide their quaking. “Though I believe my rank is Lieutenant, now, sir.”

“Lieutenant,” he replied, with the same amount of disdain he’d probably afford a crying child. “I imagine it’s the lack of distraction.” He smirked. “I loathe to think of the productivity you would’ve had on the Finalizer with a similar environment.”

“Oh, as do I, sir.” You offered him a gleaming smile. “I can’t imagine a punishment worse than being in your good graces.”

“Chief,” hissed Mirna. “That’s a General of the First Order. What are you doing?”

Cursing internally, you pinched yourself, stood straighter. Your team would have no idea why you felt so comfortable mouthing off to a man who, otherwise, might’ve had you thrust into the bowels of space by now--and to be honest, you didn’t have much of an idea why at this point, either. Your presumed protection was hardly a current presence in your life. 

You shook your head, wagged out your hands. “Let me try again, sir.” Clearing your throat, you continued, “General Hux, sir. To what do I owe the honor?”

Hux smirked. “As much as I hate to interrupt, Lieutenant,” he said, continuing to let the word drip with more venom than a snake ever could, “I’m here to order you to come with me onto the Steadfast.”

“The Steadfast?” Obviously the name of a ship, but not one you were familiar with. No news bulletins had made their way to Orinda in the time you’d been stationed. “Why?”

“The Supreme Leader’s TIE fighter has ceased functioning. Every engineer we’ve brought to it has failed to diagnose the issue.” His jaw tensed in real, actual reluctance. “We were at the border of the Rim, and unfortunately, I thought of you.”

You blinked. He wanted you to work on Snoke’s TIE fighter? 

And then another question: Snoke had a TIE fighter? 

“Uh…” Frowning, you glanced around at your crew. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them for days on end. “How long will I be gone?”

His face betrayed nothing but pure disgust. “As long as it takes you to fix a TIE fighter.” He watched as you paused in thought. “I wasn’t offering you a choice, Lieutenant. We’re leaving now.”

With that, he turned on his heels, marching up the ramp. A long, slow breath left your lungs, and you turned to your team, scanning their faces for any reaction. To your surprise, everyone but Tonis seemed rapt in excitement, eyes wide and chins wagging in awe. 

“I had no idea you were such a big shot!” Lin grinned. The other two nodded in agreement.

Blushing, you rubbed your arm in embarrassment, looking between them. “No, no,” you said. “Nothing like that.”

“You have to tell us the story, one day.” Mirna was smirking.

“Uh… Right.” You coughed. “So, hopefully I’ll only be a day or so, max,” you said. “Mirna, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”

“You got it, Chief,” she said. “Tonis, my first order is for you to please calm down.”

He shot her a glare. “Good luck, Chief!” He offered you a salute, which was both strange and unnecessary. “We’ll be thinking of you!”

Warmth spread in your chest. “I’ll be thinking of you guys, too. Don’t make too big of a mess, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!” they replied in unison--and then broke into laughter. 

You shook your head, finding yourself laughing with them. “Okay. See you guys soon.” 

Bowing your head, you trudged up the ramp into the transporter, taking a seat far away from Hux and the two Stormtroopers. You wondered why he’d bothered to bring them to a tiny outpost like Orinda, but you supposed that self-importance and paranoia knew no bounds in the higher ranks of the First Order. 

As the door closed to the transporter, your heart wrinkled. In the past few months, despite your open ache, Orinda had become your home, your crew had become something akin to your family. You hoped the issue with the TIE fighter was something stupid, like a busted hyperdrive. They were simple to repair, but most engineers wouldn’t mess with lightspeed travel--the mechanisms were so delicate that even a simple mistake could result in splitting the ship. 

The transporter rose into the air, and in seconds, it burst into the sky. A windowless cargo meant you could only imagine the faces of your crew as you disappeared into the horizon. You sighed, watching your feet as they jostled with the jerking of the ship. You weren’t sure what the Steadfast was like, but apparently Snoke had moved his operations there. Though you still had no clue what Snoke looked like, you’d never imagined him to be the type to fly--but perhaps a Supreme Leader required multiple skillsets.

The awkward ride finished without a single word being exchanged between you and Hux, which was fine by you, and possibly finer by him. When the ramp lowered, he speared you with his gaze, waiting for the troopers to exit before standing and ordering you to follow him with only his eyes.

You tromped down the ramp into the hangar on the Steadfast--it looked almost identical to the one on the Finalizer. The ceilings stretched high, like a giant’s mouth, the magnetic shields glowing teeth at the lips of the bay. Ships buzzed above you, racing in and out of their docks, the floor crowded with soldiers and officers alike. 

The rush hit you--sure, the time on Orinda had been fantastic, engaging, rejuvenating. But it would never match the thrill of working in the presence of fleets and fleets of warships, surrounded by the heady spell of urgent, prestigious labor. You sucked it through your nose, held it in your chest, unable to stop your eyes from lingering on every busted ship they saw. In the distance, a team huddled around the smoking wing of a TIE fighter--you bit your lip to prevent yourself from racing over, from tearing it apart for them.

Another thing you weren’t able to stop looking for was any hint, any presence of the Commander--but in the bay, you didn’t even catch evidence of the Command Shuttle. It was a huge assumption to guess he’d be on the Steadfast to begin with, but part of you hoped he’d trailed his precious Supreme Leader to any place he was ordered. It figured that the one time you might have been within thinking distance, he’d managed to make himself scarce. 

Another twine in your heart snapped, joining the collection that’d been unfurling since you’d departed the Finalizer. 

Yes, he’d said he would find you. You still believed him now, even. 

But really. What was taking him so damn long?

Hux led you to a wide dock toward the very front of the hangar. The crews you spotted along the way seemed detached, working without words, communicating with gestures and mirthless expressions. Tonis’ silly salute would never happen here. You frowned. The lack of thrill was worth your autonomy.

“Lieutenant.”

A snap of your head, and you blinked. You were in front of your charge. 

This TIE fighter was unlike one you’d ever seen. Instead of the flat panel wings, this one bore talons, sharp knives capable of cutting space and possibly any ship in its way. Red-paned transparisteel formed the cockpit into a muzzle, imitating an animal instead of a sphere. And it wasn’t a ball suspended on plates, but was rather tucked tight into the body of the ship, creating a seamless, dynamic transition that to you, seemed so new, so modern. It was almost--sexy? 

You looked to Hux. “Are you sure this is the one that isn’t working?” Lips parted in awe, you stepped up to it, placing a hand on the solar array. “It’s gorgeous.”

“The Supreme Leader has been unable to fly it for cycles, now,” said Hux. “I’m sure.”

“All right.” You rolled your eyes. “Got it.” 

What you needed was a post-flight report. You strode over to the nearest terminal and entered your credentials--thankfully, as a Lieutenant now, they were universal to the entire First Order system. Only one ship was logged underneath the access: TIE/vn space superiority fighter: SILENCER.

“TIE silencer?” you mumbled. “Where do they come up with these names?”

You investigated the reports in the past several cycles that detailed the attempts by engineers to get the thing working: thrusters aligned, check. Solar lines flushed, check. Refuel port cleansed, check. Heat calibration reset and replaced, check. 

And yet with each new repair--engine test: fail. 

Engine test: fail. 

Engine test: fail, fail, fail. 

Screwing your lips in thought, you landed on the post-flight report, hoping it would provide you with insight. If he knew what was good for him, Supreme Leader Snoke would be thorough.

You opened the report, and paragraphs of information flooded the screen. Your jaw dropped. Every single system had been left with a meticulously in-depth account of its status before, during, and after flight. The level of specificity contained within each sentence astounded you. It was almost unbelievable that a single person could remember this much, let alone regurgitate it with any level of accuracy. You groaned, lost in Basic.

Hux cleared his throat. “How long do you anticipate this taking, Lieutenant?” 

“As long as I--...” You stopped yourself with a grumble. It would be much easier to hear it from the tauntaun’s mouth, instead of pouring over and cross-checking every single detail. “I’m not sure, General. Is there any way I could speak with the Supreme Leader?” 

A strange, smug look passed over his face. “Certainly,” he replied. “I’ll take you.”

You blinked. That was easy. Almost too easy. “Uh… okay.”

Hux turned on his heel, clipped stride cutting through the hangar. You hadn’t been prepared to meet the Supreme Leader when you woke up this morning, but you supposed anything was possible when working for the First Order. Swallowing, you shut down the terminal, and followed him into the halls.

Returning to a Star Destroyer, in a way, felt like home--the glossy black tile passed like a familiar path beneath your feet, and you spared fleeting glances to the Stormtroopers who passed you. The halls of the Steadfast maintained their similarity to everything else on the Finalizer--though that did nothing to assuage your anxiety about the memories you’d had on that ship. Or who may or may not be on this one. 

“Do you work on the Steadfast, now, sir?” 

Hux was silent for a moment, gaze trained forward. “Yes. The Finalizer was decommissioned.”

“Wait, really?” Your heart thumped. The only datapad message you’d received from your friends had come in the first few weeks after your departure. You just assumed they’d been busy. “What happened?”

“A Resistance attack left it crippled,” he replied. “Leadership and surviving crew were transferred to the Steadfast.”

Terror seized you, your pace quickened. “Sur-surviving crew?” you asked. “Sir?” More silence. You stumbled to catch up with him, fighting the tremor in your voice. “Sir--”

“Engineers Foster and Loren were transferred to this vessel unharmed, Lieutenant.” He leered at you. “Satisfied?”

You heaved a massive sigh, hands falling to your knees. They were here. You’d have to catch up with them, soon. 

“Yes, sir, thank you--” 

By the time you’d finished, he’d already managed to make it what seemed to be fifty paces ahead of you, and you scrambled to keep up with him. 

As you did, a grey-haired man emerged from the corner in front of you both, and Hux stiffened, cursing under his breath. Raising a brow, you tried to meet this man’s gaze, only to bump into the general, who’d stopped, limbs pinned to his sides.

“Shit!” Your face burned, and you jumped back, snapping to attention. “I mean, uh, sorry, General, sir.”

The look Hux offered you was similar to one a parent might offer a simpering child. Right before they murdered that child in a fit of blind rage.

“General Hux,” said the grey-haired man. “Just the one I was looking for.” 

“Allegiant General Pryde.” Hux’s chin jutted to the ceiling. 

The Allegiant General Pryde turned his attention to you, glimpsing your uniform before meeting your eyes. “I’m afraid we’re not acquainted, Lieutenant…”

You gave your name. “Sir.” Clearing your throat, you continued, “I’m Chief of Operations on Orinda.”

“Ah.” His gaze lingered on the fuel cell filth smattering your chest. “Of course.” Something within his eyes categorized you in league with rodents--and something else within them told you he crushed rodents for sport. “Interesting.” His attention whipped back to Hux. “General. Regarding the Council meeting…”

“I plan to present the Supreme Leader with my plan, sir.”

“I know you do,” Pryde replied, “but you failed to run it by me.”

Hux’s jaw tensed. You wished you were anywhere other than this extremely awkward hallway meeting that had absolutely nothing to do with you.

“Forgive me, Allegiant General,” Hux said, “but I didn’t think a basic unit efficiency research required your approval.”

“Everything requires my approval, General,” he said. “Lest we forget the errors of Starkiller Base.”

That was a low blow. You gulped. They both looked at you, and you cleared your throat again, throwing your hands behind your back. The energy radiating from Hux could be classified as skin-scorching. 

“Of course.” Hux’s tone grew tighter with each word that left his lips. “I’ll remember that next time, sir.”

“Good.” Pryde glanced between you. “What brings a facility chief from her station all the way to the Steadfast?”

“The Supreme Leader’s TIE fighter, sir,” Hux replied, still staring into the air. “She may be the only engineer capable of repairing it.”

The Allegiant General frowned. “Really. How many resources did you expend picking up a single person from a remote outpost?” he asked. “Do you not consider this to be something I should know?”

“It was a brief excursion,” he said. “I took two Stormtroopers and a single transport unit.”

“Was that unit’s excursion approved?” He circled Hux, a silvered predator, sizing up his prey. For once, you almost felt bad for the ginger bastard. “What if Resistance staged an attack while you were gone? If we needed that unit for more than a handful of bodies?”

Hux’s lips pursed, chin dimpling with tension. “I don’t know, sir.”

“And how do you think the Supreme Leader will feel knowing you acted without approval, all to retrieve a single engineer?”

Silence drifted like fog over the three of you, thickening as this grey-haired power-laden dickhead glared at General Hux. But Hux’s back had aligned, parallel to the wall, every flicker of frustration fled from his frame. The tiniest hint of a smirk curled at his mouth.

“I think he’ll be just fine with it. Sir.” Hux’s brow quirked. “We’re on our way to speak with him now, if you’d like to accompany.”

Pryde grinned, a serpent’s twist to his smile. “Your confidence has failed you in the past, General,” he replied. “Lead the way.”

You trailed behind the Allegiant General and Hux, fingers starting to quake. Now, you’d not only be meeting the Supreme Leader still smothered in space dust, you’d be meeting him accompanied by the two biggest assholes in the First Order--second only to one other, perhaps. 

Unfortunately, that particular asshole was a ghost to this ship, and there wasn’t anyone in particular you felt comfortable asking about him. If Hux had been superceded by this new jerk, the last thing you wanted was another opportunity for someone with rank greater than your own to question you about your personal relationships. 

Dread pooled in your belly. Supreme Leader Snoke did know about your personal relationship with the Commander. In fact, Snoke had been the one to insist you be his conduit, among other insulting things. You imagined him bringing it up: Ah, yes, the engineer, the distraction… and how have you been, without his cock inside of you?

You shook your head. No, it didn’t make sense for him to bring up his apprentice’s dick at your first meeting. Or any meeting, for that matter. You hoped.

The two men led you through the rest of the journey in silence, animosity prickling like durasteel barbs in the air between them. At least your own team didn’t regard you with vibrodaggers behind their backs--as far as you knew, anyway--and the realization, against the backdrop of your current situation, had you aching to leave. The discussion with the Supreme Leader would be swift and succinct; you’d get the information you needed, diagnose the problem, and be on your way back to Orinda. 

In front of you, a massive turbolift sang its arrival, blast door whirring open. You followed the two men inside, heart tingling. Maybe part of you had been hoping that your long-awaited reunion would have occurred during your time aboard--as you thought it, you tried to stymie the resentment that you’d waited this long at all. The rational part of your mind reasoned that he was a busy man, that lack of contact didn’t indicate lack of thought. 

But every other part of your mind was staving off bubbling despair. Four months had felt like four years, and you’d only grown more desperate, more anxious for his embrace--then furious that he didn’t appear to return the sentiment. 

You knew how he felt. So it didn’t make sense, then, why he hadn’t acted on it for even a single, solitary night in the past sixteen weeks.  

When the blast door opened, you crossed the threshold into an obsidian sanctuary. The floor gleamed, a black lake of glass sweeping into high ebony ceilings that twinkled with artificial stars. The only other illumination came from two enormous spheres that hung, suspended in air at opposite ends of the room, their surfaces a swirl of white-grey light, imitation suns with colorless coronas. At the far end of the room was a hovering stone throne, six dark figures crowding it in a crescent. 

Your heart stammered--you’d seen them before. In memories that hadn’t belonged to you. All of them were outfitted in clothing that seemed familiar, helmets that hid their identities, and each of them possessed a weapon meant explicitly for assassination. The only conclusion you could draw was that they were the Supreme Leader’s bodyguards. 

Whoever they were, to you, they were ominous.

The two men in front of you strode forward, and you followed, catching your reflection whispering by your shoes: your hair was mussed with evidence of engine exhaust, your uniform still glowing with smears of ionization. Internally, you cursed yourself. Yeah, this was exactly how you’d wanted to look when meeting the Supreme Leader of the First Order--like complete shit. Stomach sinking, you sidled behind them as they stood at attention. 

“Supreme Leader,” they said simultaneously.

As if on command, the wall of shadowed soldiers parted to reveal the throne. 

But no one was there.

You blinked. “Oh.” 

Hux’s head swiveled between the strangers in front of you. “Where is he?” He turned to Pryde. “These are his receiving hours--”

“Yes,” replied the Allegiant Asshole. “But perhaps he’s departed early for the Supreme Council meeting. We’d be better off--”

The turbolift doors wailed behind you, and like synchronized chronometers, you, Hux, and Pryde spun to meet the new arrival. 

Your brain went blank.

Kylo Ren crossed the shimmering sable floor in a confident stride, his robes replaced now with padded armor that clung to the contours of his powerful, thick chest, his broad shoulders covered with a hooded cape. His fists, still bound in leather, flexed at his sides--and his face... 

More beautiful, more arresting than you could have conjured in any memory, his lips still pink and plush, his nose still a long line, his hair still rolling in waves, like black silk-velvet at his shoulders. You met his eyes as he advanced, finding them guarded, resurrecting every fear and insecurity, tempering them with hidden warmth. 

“Generals.”

The voice was lightning through your limbs, its owner a perfect match to the soft baritone you’d replayed in your dreams for the past one hundred and fifty two days. All of your systems leapt to life at once: brain spinning, heart soaring, adrenaline coursing. Sweat soaked your neck, your figure thrust whole into a furnace.

“Sir!” Both bowed their heads.

Gazing at him, then, you realized what was happening. This was his throne. You were working on his TIE fighter. Kylo Ren, your lover, your obsession, your galaxy was now the de-facto leader of the actual galaxy. You weren’t in love with the First Order’s Commander, anymore. 

You were in love with its Supreme Leader. 

Shock anchored your mouth open. Your eyes welled with latent tears. You grinned in disbelief.

“Dude!” You laughed. “What the fuck!”